A One Month Bet Revamped
by Olly BaaBaa-Chan
Summary: Sakura is sent to Suna to train the medical team there, but the Kazekage is skeptical, to say the least. Can Sakura complete her mission with dignity, or will she be distracted and lose this bet? Rated M for safety. GaaxSaku
1. Where Sakura Is Faced with a Challenge

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters associated with it

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Well hello, all.

Long time, no write. I know; I'm sorry.

Firstly I would like to apologize if you're one of those readers who are still waiting patiently for the final chapter of The Trouble With Me… Surprise! I've… well… I've been working on this instead…

Please don't kill me. At least let me explain myself first:

In regards to TTWM, I have come across a great figurative wall that I simply cannot gather the gumption to overcome, despite all the desperate pleas for that final chapter. Again, I'm sorry. I thought that by picking up reading FF again, perhaps it would encourage me to write more, so I read my all-time favorite FF (and possibly my favorite story out of any genre). Unfortunately, my favorite story is not a HS fic, and so it did not inspire me to finish the TTWM.

However!

It _did_ make me want to look back at my only other story that was not HS: A One Month Bet.

I could not believe how outright _bad_ it was…

I literally cringed with every poorly-structured paragraph, every over-used pronoun, every moment of poor character development, every misaligned event or misplaced reference…

Every time Temari or Kankuro said, "Omg."

I sat in front of my computer asking myself, "Did I really write this? Can this even be considered good literature?"

And suddenly the inspiration was there!

I am rewriting A One Month Bet. It has the same characters with the same general plot. It's just…

Better written.

Now again, I apologize. I don't mean to offend anyone who read and enjoyed AOMB in its original format. If you are a writer, then you will understand how one is never completely content with one's own work. I first began writing AOMB nearly four years ago, and my vocabulary, writing skills, and overall maturity have since increased. I have used this to create a better, deeper story, at least in my own opinion. I hope you will enjoy it in its new and improved form:

A One Month Bet (Revamped)

A hot desert wind was curling its way through the streets of Sunagakure. It whistled past the homes of the people on the outskirts of the city, rattling windows and rustling curtains. It wove past the shop owners closer inward, who turned their backs to avoid the familiar warm blow of sand. By the time it reached the center of the city, it was little more than a breeze as it whispered through the pink locks of Sakura's hair. She glanced up at her destination. The Kazekage tower looked very much like the Hokage's back in her home village, only a little more wind-worn and better-suited for the harsher desert climate.

While the Hidden Leaf and the Hidden Sand were allies, Sakura knew little of the brethren city. She had only visited it once, five years ago, and even then had not had the chance to explore. She knew little of the town, and even less of the people. Today she knew only what her Hokage and mentor, Tsunade, had told her before she left.

_"Sakura, I have a mission for you," Tsunade said, tossing a scroll at her apprentice. "Suna's medical team is lacking, and the Kazekage has requested that I send a team of our own to train his."_

_ "Gaara-sama?" Sakura thought it out of his character to admit to a weakness of any kind, but then again, as Kazekage it was his duty to ensure that all areas of his city were in top shape. If his medical unit was found wanting, it was natural for him to search for proper training. _

_Konoha's own medical unit, Sakura was proud say, was quite excellent. She had trained personally under Tsunade herself, and had already passed along the knowledge to her fellow medical nin and to Konoha's hospitals. Sakura was, with the exception of her sensei, the best medical nin in the Hidden Leaf._

"_Teh, yes," the Hokage continued, flicking her long, blonde pigtail over her shoulder, "And he's an idiot if he expects me to send all our best meds to him and leave Konoha unprotected. It's not my fault his medical team is shoddy."_

"_Well you can't just ignore his request," Sakura protested, "If he needs—"_

"_What, do you think I'm stupid?" her sensei asked a little snidely. Sakura's cheeks burned with shame. She shook her head slowly, feeling suddenly very small and naïve. Tsunade smiled apologetically. "Look, it's alright. I know you mean well. Just let me finish, alright? Anyways, as the Hidden Sand are our allies, it's our obligation to help them out, but I'm not going to put our own city at risk to do it."_

_She glanced expectedly at her apprentice, who said nothing. Still too embarrassed by her last outburst, Sakura held back her curiosity. She still did not know what part she was to play in this sticky, political situation._

"_Sakura, I'm am not going to pretend that I've not noticed your skill," Tsunade continued admiringly. "You are a very strong kunoichi, and you are the best in our medical unit."_

_Sakura's pride sky-rocketed. "Thank you, sensei."_

"_I want you to go to Suna to train the medical teams there. That way the Kazekage gets his unit trained and Konoha still has our own in case we need it." She tilted her head and raised one eyebrow skeptically. "Gaara will most likely not be pleased with this arrangement, but hand that to him," she tilted her head in the direction of the scroll in Sakura's hands, "and maybe he won't make too much of a fuss."_

_Sakura noted the twinge of sarcasm in Tsunade's voice. Gaara? Not get what he wants? That kind of situation had turned deadly in the past. Literally_. But_, Sakura thought, _maybe he's softened up a little, now that Shukaku was removed…_ Hey now, a girl could hope, right?_

_She nodded to her sensei. Tsunade returned the gesture and shuffled through some of the papers on her desk. Sakura left the Hokage tower feeling proud and confident._

Her pride had diminished somewhat now, after the journey between her village and this one. It was many miles of forest until the grasslands could be reached, and then another number of miles through the desert before the city could even be found. Covered in sweat, dirt, grime, and sand as she was, she didn't feel too proud of her appearance. Her confidence, however, was still intact. She knew she was good, and she had come damn well too far to _not_ be able to train Suna's meds. Sakura was determined to finish this mission, whether or not Subaku no Gaara was happy about it.

Her weary feet trudged up the steps and into the Kazekage tower, ready to face the Kazekage and his stubbornness. The woman at the appointment desk smiled sweetly at the new guest. She could tell Sakura's origin from her attire: clearly more suited for moving swiftly through shade and trees, not the barren, open heat of the desert. "Konohagakure?" she inquired. The kunoichi gave a polite nod. "The Kazekage has been expecting you. He's in his office, just through there." She pointed to an ornately decorated door behind and a little to the left of her desk. Sakura nodded again, this time with a slight smile in acknowledgement to the woman's kindness, and headed for the door.

A brief knock and a curt, "Enter," was all that was necessary for Sakura to go into the office. It looked much like that of her Hokage's, with slight differences in decoration and furnishing. The desk was in the same place, in front of the same window, though instead of a busty woman with blonde pigtails and a bottle of sake, there sat a rugged young man of about twenty. Subaku no Gaara was the youngest ninja ever to have acquired the title of Kazekage, but that title was certainly not unwarranted. His scarlet hair had grown longer and shaggier since she had last seen him, and it shaded his already dark eyes. The emerald orbs were beautiful and deep, and had seen many deaths in their time. They were rimmed in black, as they always had been, and the red character on his forehead, _Love_, still shown bright like an angry burn. His characteristic gourd of sand sat leaning against the wall to his right. He was rough. Mysterious.

Handsome.

But there was no time for thoughts like that right now. Sakura was here strictly on business. She bowed low and with respect to the man who was leader of this city. "Kazekage-sama," she began.

"Haruno Sakura," he growled. She glanced up in surprise. He recognized her?

"Yes, sir," she said. "I come on behalf of the Hokage."

"Obviously," he acknowledged with disinterest. He lifted one hand in expectation. A little miffed at his attitude, Sakura obeyed silently and handed him Tsudnade's scroll. He unrolled it and began scanning. The further his eyes made it down the page, the darker they became. He finally slapped it shut and jabbed it accusingly at her.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded. His voice was not very loud but Sakura could not ignore the fact that it was nonetheless terribly authoritative and intimidating.

Eyes straight ahead, Sakura replied, "I don't understand what you mean, sir."

His eyes narrowed. "You know perfectly well what I mean. You think I'll take this kind of shit from Tsunade? I asked for a _team_, not her pet."

Inner Sakura's rage exploded. How dare he insult her like that? And not only her, but Tsunade as well? But Sakura had to keep her temper in check. Already she could feel her chakra channeling to her fists, ready to punch Gaara all the way to the outer wall of the city. And from there she would punch him so hard he'd fly straight into Tsunade's office so the woman could bitch-slap him herself.

But that would lead to a war, no doubt, and Tsunade would be pissed.

No punching the Kazekage.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Sakura tried again, "Kazekage-sama, I assure you that I am more than capable enough to—"

"To train Suna's entire medical team?" he scoffed, "I think not."

Sakura jutted her chin out defiantly, but bit her tongue. _Don't start a war, don't start a war, don't start a war…_

"I'm going to give you a letter to Tsunade," He began writing on a new piece of parchment. "You're going to give it to her, and she is going to send me a proper team, do you understand?"

It was too much. Sakura had reached her limit. She strode up quickly and slammed her hands on his desk, forcing him to look up at her. "Listen, _you_ asked _us_ for a favor. Do you want your unit trained or not?"

Sakura stared down at him indignantly, but as she watched the cloud of anger darken over his features, she suddenly remembered her place. He stood up quickly, towering over her, and she took a step back. Sand began to seep menacingly from his gourd, and she eyed it with caution. She felt her heart rate increase as she remembered, all those years ago, what it felt to have that same sand surrounding her, literally crushing her. She'd hoped Gaara had softened in the years that Shukaku was absent, but she now realized her mistake. Perhaps he no longer killed simply for blood-lust, but he was still just as lethal.

He was Kazekage of the Sand village. She was just a jonin from Konoha. Unless Konoha or anyone in relation to it was in immediate danger, she had no place to defy him. He was her superior._ The bastard. _She bowed quickly. "My apologies, Kazekage-sama," she said quietly. Though Inner Sakura was clawing at her insides, thirsty for redemption, Sakura forced herself to remember just who she was talking to. She swallowed her anger. "Please, sir, the Hokage would not lie to you." She glanced up at him. "I am not so weak as you remember."

Gaara stilled. Anger still radiated off him in waves. He looked over the woman in front of him.

Haruno Sakura.

Yes, he remembered her, though not very well. When he'd first met her during the chunin exams, she was nothing. Barely a ninja at all. She was vain and naïve; she'd never killed anything in her whole life. Her sole purpose in life was to gain the recognition of a boy who cared more about the dirt under his fingernails than he did about her existence. Sasuke, the traitor. Gaara sneered at the very thought of him. He knew she was also acquainted with the only person he truly considered a friend: Uzumaki Naruto. She had been on the team with him that was sent to rescue Gaara when he was captured by the Akatsuki. She'd certainly grown since the exams, but she was still young and impulsive. He felt no reason to get to know her any better.

Now, however, she was clearly an accomplished kunoichi. No longer a child, but a woman. Her recognizable pink mop of hair framed her face femininely. Her complexion was fair, though tainted faintly pink from the harsh desert sun. The days of traveling showed easily on her skin and clothing, but it did not distract from her attractive features. Her eyes, large, round, and embellished with delicate pink eyelashes, were an exotic sea-foam green, providing a stark contrast to the rest if her fair face. She was slender, curvaceous. His eyes roamed over her body skeptically.

"No," he agreed hesitantly. Sakura straightened up a little more. "No offense was meant to your village or your Hokage. However," he sat back down at his desk and continued writing, "when I request a team of medical nin, I expect a _team of medical nin_. I need no further affirmation of your skill; Tsunade made it very clear in her letter that you are highly accomplished in the medical field. I would prefer, however, that my request be granted in full. It is unlikely that a single instructor would bring about a major improvement in my team." He finished his letter, rolled it neatly into a scroll, and held it up to her.

Sakura eyed the scroll. Sure, he meant no offense to her village. He meant no offense to her Hokage. But what about herself? He didn't believe that she could train his whole unit on her own. Well why not? She'd trained most of Konoha's, hadn't she? She refused to back down now. "One month," she proposed, holding up one finger for emphasis, "Let them train for one month under me. If they've not improved significantly at the end of thirty days, I will personally go to Hokage Tsunade and tell her a medical team is…" She ground her teeth, "Necessary."

Gaara's eyes shone with skepticism. _She's quite sure of herself, isn't she?_ he thought. Seldom did anyone go against his authority. He'd been Kazekage for nearly six years now, and despite his absence with the Akatsuki incident, he'd been able to hold up his city fairly well. The people, even if they still feared him, had at least come to trust and respect him as their Kazekage. His decisions were rarely challenged. To see this young woman, this jonin from another village, no-less, go against his will was… rattling, to say the least. An older, darker part of him wanted to punish her, hurt her, for her insubordination. Yet another, more prominent portion of him was simply… interested. He stood slowly, again casting his shadow over her. "One month," he echoed. "Very well. I will give you thirty days. Roughly four weeks." He stared her directly in the eye, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I want you working 7am to 6pm every day, with the exception of Sundays. You may use them for training or rest or whatever else you choose."

Sakura started. As proud as she was that she got her way, she wouldn't stand for such outrageous terms. He was trying to daunt her, purposely trying to push her back to Konoha, even after agreeing to let her stay. But being a successful medical nin had certain requirements.

Sakura knew this.

Gaara did not.

So she threw it in his face.

"With all due respect, Kazekage-sama, that is ridiculous."

"Oh?" Gaara asked mockingly. His smirk a little wider now.

"Yes, it is. While I'm sure the terms which you have listed would most surely hinder my ability to teach your team, as I guess you've already considered," His smirk grew ever so slightly. "It would be detrimental to your medics, as well. As an accomplished medical ninja I must inform you that medical nin need at least seven hours of sleep to function properly. I know perfectly well that most ninja can function on very little sleep, or," she chanced a glance at his black-ringed eyes, "No sleep at all, but in the medical field its always best to have seven hours under your belt to keep a clear head in case of emergency. Also, I've learned through my years of experience that changing teachers suddenly can be harmful to the learning process. They still need to work with their original trainers too. It has already been made obvious that the medical unit needs extra training—otherwise I would not be here—but putting too much stress on the human mind, ninja or not, could quickly turn disastrous." While Gaara glowered unhappily at her, she quickly did the calculations in her head. "Sleeping seven full hours and then waking up to train with me would leave… only six small hours to train with their normal teachers. Now that's a _huge_ difference between the eleven hours they'd be spending with me each day, and that's assuming that there would be no breaks for rest or meals. And don't even get me _started_ on the importance of breakfast—"

"Enough," he growled. He glared at the smug expression on her pretty face. Gaara did not like being made into a fool. He was unfamiliar with the process of learning medical jutsu, and had not realized how delicate it was. However, he felt like even more of a fool for not at least _guessing_ some of those requirements. At least then he would not have left a window open for Sakura to batter him with simple logic and make him seem ignorant. "Devise your own schedule, then," he relented. "But keep it consistent. Don't take advantage of this liberty or I assure you the trip back to Konoha will be a swift one."

Sakura, though irritated, bowed respectfully in acceptance. Gaara did little in acknowledgement. After a moment had passed in silence, Gaara clearly became annoyed with her lingering presence. There was a click on his intercom and a curt order to the woman in the next room: "Mitaya. Send Temari to my office." Sakura recognized a scratchier, less intelligible version of the voice of the woman at the desk. "Just a moment," the box gargled. And then there was a beat of awkward silence as neither adult knew what should happen next.

Gaara clearly felt uncomfortable. He had nothing more to say until Temari arrived, and there was no point in trying to make small talk. Not that he knew how to make small talk, exactly. Unless it concerned Suna or politics, Gaara rarely had to anything to say, actually. His responses generally consisted of one or two syllables. In fact, Kankuro had once bet he could make Gaara say more than two words. The younger brother promptly replied, "You lose."

Needless to say, Gaara wasn't much of a chatter box.

Sakura could've easily filled the silence had she not been convinced anything she had to say to him would land her in a jail cell. Or worse. She was pretty sure that calling the Kazekage a two-faced, inconsiderate turd pile might not go over so well.

Thank goodness for Temari, slicer of the tension.

In the usual, carefree, stoic manner that was Temari's, she strode into Gaara's office without knocking. Already at the ripe age of twenty-three she maintained an air of command that was attributed to living around politics and war since the day she was born. The role of Kazekage had been in her life one way or another for as long as she'd known, almost like an inherited trait, previously belonging to her father and only recently passing to her brother. Temari embraced the Kage gene in a way that most would've feared in case it might anger Gaara, but she was closer to her brother than many perceived and felt comfortable with her allotted amount of control.

She greeted Sakura with mild interest, the same way someone might greet a former co-worker after bumping into them at the grocery store. Addressing her brother she said, "You rang?"

Gaara nodded, but did not look at her directly. Instead he shuffled some papers on his desk and explained the situation. "Haruno Sakura will be staying in Suna to train the medical nin. She will be here for one month."

One of Temari's eyebrows visibly arched in cynicism. Sakura scowled. Why did everyone believe her so incapable? Gaara glanced up at his sister and continued, "I want you to find a room for her here in the mansion."

Sakura nearly stumbled backward. Stay in the Kazekage mansion? With Gaara? She immediately protested, "Kazekage-sama, I assure you that would be unnecessary. I would much rather find a hotel—"

"I'm sure you would," he sneered, "But how else am I going to monitor your schedule and progress? It would become tiresome to have to call you in for meetings every other day. You'll be much more accessible here in the tower." He gave her devilish smirk. "Just a precaution."

_Just overkill_, Inner Sakura growled.

This time Temari could almost see the wall of tension in which she was about to break. "Right… so… Sakura? Shall we?" She bowed to her brother and waited for the other kunoichi to follow suit. Sakura was not at all pleased with this situation now. She _knew_ she could train the medical nin, but the accommodations now in place were unsettling. She would have to write a letter to Tsunade. Surely this was pushing at least _some_ kind of political taboo. Was it even legal for her to stay there? As she followed Temari out the door, she rolled her eyes in spite of herself. _Of course it's not illegal, _she mentally sighed. _It just feels… weird. _Like staying in the apartment of an old classmate who you never really spoke to but whom you've recently discovered has a strange fetish for something like toenails. She shuddered.

Temari led her up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. "It'll be nice having another female around, Sakura-chan," Temari said with a grin. Sakura blinked at the suffix added to her name and gave a small smile in return. She'd never been particularly close to the sand kunoichi, but she suddenly felt more comfortable with her there. "I'm sure you already know how annoying it is having to live with men all the time."

Most kunoichi probably felt that way, Sakura mused. It was one of those downsides to subjecting oneself to a male-dominated profession. She murmured a sound of agreement to her companion. They stopped in front of a door midway down the hall. "I'm impressed, by the way," Temari said while opening the door and gesturing for Sakura to enter. "Not many people can make Gaara actually speak in full sentences."

Sakura laughed. She was glad that at least Temari would be nearby in case she needed a girlfriend. _Not that I will_, she reminded herself, _I'm here strictly on business_.

As though reading her thoughts, Temari rested one shoulder in the doorframe and said casually, "Hey, maybe sometime while you're here we could hang out. Have a couple drinks and go shopping or something. Let me know, 'kay?"

"Thank you, Temari-san." Sakura said respectfully. Temari grimaced.

"Just Temari. 'San' is only for the genin… And maybe some chunin. Anyways, you're our guest, so make yourself comfortable. I promised I'd go train with Kankuro, so I'll catch ya later." She winked and headed back down the stairs. Sakura smiled and closed the door behind her.

She surveyed her new room. It was pleasant, but not as ornate as the Kazekage's office. _Makes my apartment look like crap_, she noted ruefully. There was a medium-sized four-poster bed with a crimson bedspread. The walls were a natural shade of brown, and any other furniture was dark-stained wood. It complimented nicely with the south-eastern view outside her window of the housetops in the city and the sand dunes beyond. She eyed the desk in the corner and took seat. There was parchment in a lower drawer and she retrieved a piece.

_Tsunade-shishou,_

_ I have arrived in Suna and spoken with the Kazekage. He—_

Is a conceited jerk.

—_has agreed to let me train with his medical team, though—_

He's gonna try everything in his power to discourage me.

_—he isn't comfortable with the fact that I have come alone. It was as you predicted. He has given me a single month—_

During which he's going to watch me like a hawk and take every opportunity he can to scrutinize my abilities as a trainer.

—_to train the medical unit on my own. I'm sure that will be plenty of time to see some improvement. His only requirement is that—_

I have to live under the same roof as him so he can watch and criticize every single thing I say or do.

—_I will stay in the Kazekage mansion while I'm here, though I would much rather stay in a hotel. It seems—_

Painfully awkward.

_—inappropriate, to say the least. _

There wasn't much else to be said. All Sakura really wanted was for Tsunade to know that she was staying and that she would really, _really_ rather prefer a hotel. Hopefully she would gain Tsunade's sentiments. Perhaps then a hotel room would be more attainable. She scribbled a final salutation, wrapped up the letter, and curled it into a scroll to send in the morning.

With a second review her room, she noticed a door in the corner leading to a very small bathroom. That was convenient. She'd had a long journey, and a shower was welcome.

Back in his office, Gaara sat staring angrily at all the papers in front of him. _Why does there have to be so many? _He sighed and signed his name on yet another sheet, feeling just about as worn out as the black ink pen he was writing with. The sound of running water caught his attention, providing a momentary distraction in which he was happy to indulge. He could hear it pushing through the pipes above, where the sleeping quarters were. _Probably the kunoichi_, he thought with distaste. He wondered angrily if she would be a water hog, a trait characteristic of Konoha's citizens. They lived in a forest where streams, rivers, and lakes were in abundance. Water was scarce here, and consequently, more expensive. He wouldn't be surprised if she was one of those girls who enjoyed long, steamy showers, the kind that completely destroyed a water bill…

Gaara suddenly found himself imagining Sakura in the shower, soap suds slipping downward over her ivory skin. He froze. Thoughts like that hardly ever crossed his mind, and what's worse, this one lingered. In his mind's eye, he watched her rub soap over her arms and neck. Her pale pink hair was plastered to her face as she gazed over her shoulder at him and—

Gaara shook himself. No. No, no, no, no, no. He'd be damned if his self control was so weak. Thankfully, he heard the water stop after only a few minutes. He slumped with disap—ahem, relief. He shook his head. Definitely relief because… oh, right! Because she was going to run up the water bill, or something.

He grunted.

Relief.

Yes. That's what it was. He chanced a weary glance out his window. It was only midafternoon. If he didn't buckle down and get these papers finished now, he would be working well into the night. Not that he minded staying awake, even if he _could_ sleep now, but there were more interesting things to do and watch at night than signing papers.

He had to pry his mind away from the thought of watching a certain kunoichi sleep.

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Ta-dah!

Well I hope you like it. I realize it's pretty different from the original story, but I promise it'll make more sense with later chapters. My main goal for this chapter was to establish the setting, plot, and characters (who are hopefully less OOC than their predecessors).

There's nothing I love more than a good review, especially those with constructive criticism, so have at it!

See y'all next chapter,

Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	2. Where Sakura is in an Awkward Situation

Happy Summer, Everyone!

I don't know about you guys, but it is pretty darn HOT where I live. Humidity sucks, too. I personally believe that air-conditioning was man's greatest invention—After sliced bread, of course.

On the upside, summer provides me with an excellent excuse to just kick-back, relax, and write. Here I have, for your enjoyment, the second chapter of my "revamped" story. _Yes_, it is the same story. _Yes_, it is different. Don't you just love a stereotypical paradox?

Anyways, before you ask: No, I have not finished The Trouble With Me. Do I plan to? Yes. Maybe. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story instead.

I always love a good review!

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I Don't own Naruto.

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"Sakura-sensei, where does this ligament attach to?"

"Sakura-sensei, can you demonstrate again how to link bone fibers?"

"Sakura-sensei, can you show us…?"

"Sakura-sensei, can you explain again…?"

"Sakura-sensei…?"

Sakura now understood why Gaara wanted an entire team to train the meds here.

They were worse than she'd expected.

Progress was going slowly, but then again, it'd only been five days. Luckily their chakra control was descent. It saved Sakura the trouble of teaching them how to channel their chi in the correct proportions to heal injuries: if they used too little for too long, they'd deplete all their energy; if they used too much too soon, they could easily amputate a limb or cause other such disasters. She'd taught them first how to heal minor wounds like cuts and burns, primarily on the epidermis. Today they'd studied the skeletal system: healing and sealing cracks in broken bones and reconnecting ligaments. Perhaps it was a little out of order scientifically, but out in the field, broken bones and cuts and abrasions were the most common injuries. Sakura had become so frustrated with the repetitive questions and explaining the same things over and over again. It was enough to drive any teacher to the point of strangling one of their students.

Within the last twenty minutes of class today, she literally had to keep a hold on the table edge to prevent herself from doing so. It was a wonder she didn't snap the thin wood in half.

Good thing she had a tight enough hold on her temper. And her chakra.

Now Sakura trudged back to the Kazekage tower weary and sore. True she hadn't taken any real time to train, but she could still feel the fatigue of repetitive demonstrations. _Thank God it's Saturday._ At least she could sleep in tomorrow morning, and then maybe explore Suna a little bit. Or maybe Temari would be up for doing something fun. All Sakura knew was that she needed a break. Starting with…

A bath.

The small shower in her bedroom at the Kage tower was sufficient enough as far as cleaning herself went, but it really wasn't the best place to indulge oneself after a long, grueling week of _teaching. _Ugh. Plus, she'd wandered the streets between the Kazekage mansion and the hospital enough to know that there was a descent-looking bathhouse on the way. All she had to do was run up to her room, grab some money, and then head over to enjoy a nice, relaxing, tension-releasing soak.

Already excited at the prospect, Sakura bounced up the steps to the Kage mansion and into the lobby. "Hi, Mitaya!" she chirped to the front-desk-lady. The sweet old woman smiled and beckoned for Sakura to come to her.

"A letter for you, Haruno-san," she said, handing the small scroll to her. Sakura smiled and accepted it, then turned a mocking scowl to her elder.

"Mitaya, I know I've asked you to call me Sakura." She smiled again. Mitaya bowed her head and returned the gesture.

"Yes, yes," she said. "I'll remember next time."

Sakura waved sweetly and then practically skipped up the stairs to her room. She truly liked Mitaya. She was the sweet, old, grandmotherly-type, the kind who always remembers everyone's birthday. Sakura would've loved to simply sit and chat with her and maybe do something cliché, like bake cookies, but that kind of thing was, unfortunately, not within her to-do list as a kunoichi.

_Darn medical-nin and their mediocre abilities._

As Sakura entered her room, she examined the scroll. It had the seal of the Hokage. Cha! Now, finally, she could shove this in Gaara's face and be happy and alone in a hotel room, away from the nosey Kazekage. _Subaku no Gaara!_ Inner Sakura snapped with a voice resembling Tsunade's, _how dare you force my apprentice to stay in the Kazekage tower! It is completely inappropriate and utterly unnecessary. I demand that she retreats to a hotel immediately! Signed ~ Hokage Tsunade_

Sakura chuckled with childish glee as she unfurled the letter, anticipating and eagerly awaiting the anger that was surely to be directed at Gaara. The scroll read:

_Sakura,_

_I'm glad things worked out. Gaara can be an ass sometimes, but you'll just have to put up with it. He is the Kazekage, and while you're in Suna I expect nothing less than the best behavior out of you. Remember that you not only represent me, but also the entire Hidden Leaf._

Sakura suddenly felt like a child who'd just been hefted with a large responsibility. Basically what Tsunade was saying was: Don't disappoint. The kunoichi heaved a sigh and continued reading:

_By the way, you better be grateful about getting a room in the mansion. I promise it's nicer than any hotel can offer, plus I don't want to have to send you money to stay in a Suna hotel for a month. You think we have that kind of money to spare? Oh, and don't forget to write me daily reports. You're still on a mission, kay? _

_Best of luck._

_~Tsunade_

Sakura gaped in horror. Be grateful? _Grateful_? That she was stuck in the same house as the one man who was out to get her? Gaara wanted nothing more than to get her out of Suna so he could get what he called a 'proper team'. Every night, at Gaara's convenience, she had to report immediately to his office to tell him about the day's progress. It didn't matter what _she _was busy doing at the time. Once he'd even called her while she was taking a shower. She barely had time to rinse the conditioner out of her hair, and he was still annoyed with her 'belated' arrival. _Ooh, that conceited asshole!_

And Tsunade wanted her to be_ grateful_.

Don't have that kind of money to spare? Teh. As if it would make that big of a dent in the village treasury to pay for a single hotel room for a few weeks. Tsunade was just being cheap. Sakura didn't care that the room in the Kazekage mansion was more beautiful than any hotel's. At least at a hotel she would be away from _him_. She hated how he treated her like the brown, icky stuff on the bottom of his shoe. She hated how he acted like he was king over all the universe and that every other living thing was beneath him. She hated that—

_You like him._

Sakura wanted to stab her inner-self through the eye._ I don't like him! _She argued mentally._ He's a complete ass! Why would I ever, in a million years, like that worthless, conceited, bigheaded, arrogant—_

_Because he's hot._

_That's not a good enough reason!_ Sakura attempted, but it was too late. She finally admitted it to herself. Fine. Gaara was attractive. There. She now realized what that fluttery feeling in her stomach was every time his gaze fell upon her. It was the tell-tale sign of a crush.

_But nothing more!_ She relented angrily.

It didn't mean that Gaara wasn't still an asshole. Every time he called her in for a report, he acted snide and apathetic. And if she boasted at all about her students' success, he was completely unimpressed. He would only wait until she was finished and then ask about something he knew they could not do, such as just the other night when she told him about their progress with epidermal injuries.

"_But can they heal broken bones?" _he'd asked.

Dick.

She would probably tell him tonight that they'd learned how to reattach torn ligaments. He would probably ask if they could stop internal bleeding. Damn him.

But, even so, she couldn't ignore the attraction she felt. She got a secret, sudden thrill each and every time he called her in and they were alone in his office—even if it _was_ accompanied with dread at the following conversation. A single glance from his dark-ringed eyes beneath the disheveled blood-red hair sent her heart aflutter.

Stupid hormones. Why did they always have to get her tangled up with men that didn't like her back? She'd long given up hope that Sasuke would ever come crawling back, seeking her love, but since then she hadn't even attempted at engaging in a relationship. She simply believed that, as a kunoichi, she was just too busy for love. It hadn't stopped her from at least _enjoying_ the company of the opposite sex, but if ever a crush erupted she was promptly handed a mission during which the attraction would fade. It was almost as if Tsunade _knew_ when Sakura liked someone in particular. Now, however, this _was_ her mission, and Tsunade was no where nearby to hand her a scroll and say 'scram'.

Sakura groaned and slumped against the wall. Oh well. There was no point in getting all upset about it now. Only moments ago she'd been as happy as a child with a new toy. Now she had slipped from anger to frustration and now to depression. Must be pms.

At least she still had one good thing to look forward to. Screw Gaara and his good looks and bad attitude. She was going to the bath house, and damn it, she was going to enjoy it. Sakura tossed the scroll onto her bed and ruffled in her travel pack for some money. She grabbed a little extra, in case she wanted a snack on the way back, and then proceeded down the hallway and stairs with a new determination.

"Hey Mitaya," she huffed while still walking, "I'm just going to the bathhouse. I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Alright, dear. I'll just tell the Kazekage."

Sakura stopped just feet before the door and turned quickly around. "Oh," she yelped, "Uh, you don't have to do that. He doesn't need to know that I'm going to take a bath."

Mitaya gazed with confusion at the pink-haired kunoichi, but removed her hand from the intercom nonetheless. "Well, alright then," she said hesitantly. Sakura nodded gratefully and turned back in the direction of the door. Finally. Sweet freedom was within her grasp.

"Miss Haruno."

The voice penetrated her skin like ice-cold water. She froze with her hand on the door, ready to push it open and be free of the exact person who now beckoned her. Sakura turned slowly to face him.

Gaara sat leaning in the doorway of his office, his face completely unreadable. Sakura did not want to tell him that she was going to the bathhouse. When a shower was readily available in her room, it could only mean that she was going merely to indulge, and she felt Gaara had no right or reason to know her personal pleasures. He was not her friend; he was not her boyfriend. As of this month, he was her boss, and telling your boss that you like to pamper in a warm, soapy, bathtub in the presence of multiple other women is not generally part of a healthy working relationship.

With a sigh, Sakura answered, "Yes, Kazekage-sama?"

"Where are you going?" he asked nonchalantly. He made no motion to show that he was actually interested; it was merely an intrusive question, just one of many he liked to rattle off only because he was her superior and he knew she would have to answer.

Sakura contemplated lying. It would be simple. She could say she was going out to eat, or to train, or to help one of the medical-nin that required extra tutoring. But her moral compass was too strong. It was against her very nature as a Shinobi to lie to a Kage, even if it was a white lie. Tsunade would've popped a blood vessel if she knew what Sakura wanted to do right then.

Sakura chewed on her cheek and glared at Gaara. Fine. If he wanted to know that she enjoyed long, steamy, relaxing baths, then so be it. It wasn't like she was the only girl in the world who did. And if that was too much information for him, then perhaps it would discourage him from asking so many questions if she ever so much as stuck a toe outside the Kage tower without the excuse of going to work.

"I'm…" she sighed again, "I'm going to the bathhouse." Without another word, she pushed her way out the door and into the desert heat. She missed the momentary embarrassment that flashed over Gaara's face at her confession. Glancing between the Kazekage and the empty space that had previously belonged to Sakura, Mitaya let out a small chuckle. Gaara shot her an angry glare and disappeared back into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Sakura's voice echoed in his head. She was going to the bathhouse. Why would she need to visit the bathhouse? He knew the room Temari had given to Sakura had a shower. Was it broken? No, of course not; she would've said something sooner… Then why?

Gaara walked slowly to his desk and sat down. It should not have been such a hard thing to understand. Lots of people go to the bathhouse. It was considered a place of relaxation and… He paused.

Oh.

Sakura wasn't going simply to wash away dirt and sweat and other such grime. She was going because in Suna, and he guessed in other villages too, the bathhouse was considered a place of relaxation and indulgence. While most showers in homes were small and cramped, the bathhouse was large and spacious, with consistently warm water that would not turn stale or lukewarm. For just a handful of money, anyone could enjoy a relaxing bath to wash away stress and fatigue.

Just like Sakura.

But it was not just the idea of indulgence that struck him so strongly, nor was it the fact that a bathhouse would be more relaxing than a shower. It was the revelation that within a bathhouse, people take baths, and when people take baths, they generally do so naked.

Sakura.

Naked.

Gaara leaned back in his chair, momentarily shocked by the images now dancing through his consciousness. He imagined her sitting in the shallow pool with steam curling all around her. She was pouring the sweet scented oil over her pink blossom hair and letting it drip onto her shoulders.

_What the hell is this?_

Gaara growled and pressed his palms to the top his desk. Steady. Calm. He was a disciplined man. She was just a woman. Just a kunoichi from Konoha here on a mission. Strictly. Business.

He felt his chest tighten, along with the muscles around his groin.

That woman was becoming hazardous. He decided he should nix all thoughts involving her and water. She'd not even been there an entire week, and already she haunted his mind. Out of the four times he'd called her in for a report, twice had been solely because he wanted to see her, including the time he called for her during her afternoon shower. He knew she was taking a shower; he could easily hear the water, and it certainly wasn't at his convenience. He'd paid the price of that by staying up into the late hours of the night finishing paperwork. His only regret, it seemed, was that every time he was alone with her, she gazed at him with anger, perhaps even disdain. He wondered what it would be like to have her smile at him. He'd never taken time to admire it when he'd known her in the past…

_It has to be lust_, he thought. He could not fathom any other explanation. She was an attractive young woman, and it was only natural for his body to respond like it was, including the thoughts and images of her now implanted in his head.

And yet, he did not constantly think about all the other attractive women in his village. In the past, he had not allowed it. He was disciplined. Gaara thought only for Suna. It was his goal in his new life to prove that the Shukaku was the monster, not him, and now that it was gone he would do anything and everything in his power to better the lives of his people.

Such as strengthen his medical unit.

Which had started all this mess in the first place.

Damn it all!

Why did Sakura affect him so much? He'd never in his life been so drawn to a woman. In the past five years of his manhood, things like sexuality and the opposite sex had not particularly interested him. He'd declined offers to go to clubs and bars with other men like his brother—he believed it highly inappropriate for the Kazekage to participate in those kinds of dealings, anyway. Why now, all of a sudden, had he begun to think about such things? More importantly, why was he thinking of Haruno Sakura? She was nothing more than a political bond, a business affiliate.

Wasn't she?

_Stop thinking about this._ He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. The stubble on his cheeks was more than irritating, providing just another reminder of the ever-present exhaustion that had been his constant companion for nearly five years. _You need to get back to work._

He sighed. He picked up his pen. He scratched his signature on one of the papers from the seemingly endless pile of ambiguous documents. He flipped it over and reached for the next form.

Scratch.

Flip.

Scratch.

Flip.

Scratch.

Flip.

"Hey little bro." interrupted a rather obnoxious sibling.

Great. Another distraction. As if Sakura wasn't enough. Gaara did not glance up. "Don't bother knocking," he said in acknowledgement to the other's entrance.

"Aw, c'mon," Kankuro grinned, "Don't act like you haven't missed me."

The older brother flopped into a seat opposite Gaara's desk and leaned back comfortably. He hooked his hands behind his head and gazed expectantly at his brother. Out of the previous Kazekage's three children, it seemed only Kankuro did not adhere to the characteristic commanding presence of his father, brother, and sister. Perhaps he had missed the Kage gene boat. It seemed he was more comfortable with himself as a carefree young adult, not as a leader. Instead of flaunting his abilities as a highly accomplished jonin, he was quick to accept the fact that Gaara was the commanding force behind Suna, with Temari as his right hand. Kankuro, on the left, wouldn't hesitate to quick ass on behalf of his little bro, but he wasn't about to act all high-and-mighty about it.

Gaara finally flicked a glance at his brother. Scratch. Flip.

With the purple markings etched on his face, Kankuro's grin looked rather ridiculous. Gaara didn't feel like dealing with him right now. He already felt overburdened as it was, what with images of a nude pink-haired girl flashing through his head every ten seconds.

Kankuro rolled his eyes and shifted forward towards the desk. "So, what're you doing tonight?"

"Working." Scratch. Flip.

"I mean what are you doing _tonight_? After work."

Scratch. Flip.

"C'mon, man. It's Saturday. Chill out. Me and some other people are going out for drinks tonight. You should come."

"I'm busy." Scratch. Flip.

Kankuro's grin disappeared and was replaced with a look of something resembling disgust.

Scratch—Gaara sighed. He finally looked fully at his sibling. "Kankuro," he began, "You ask me to go out to drink with you and your friends nearly every weekend,"

"Yeah, and you always refuse." Kankuro interrupted indignantly.

Gaara glowered wearily at him. "Yes, I do, and for good reason. I have work to do, Kankuro. I can't just—"

"Yeah, yeah I get it. A Kazekage's work is never finished." Kankuro retorted defiantly. Gaara's gourd shuddered and he shot him a warning glare. That was the second time Kankuro had interrupted him. If it happened again, he would end up with a throat full of sand.

The older brother stood up and held up his hands apologetically. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, "But really, man, you need a break. You're practically a workaholic. And believe me, I'm telling you this out of my own concern for your well being." He placed one hand over his heart as though expressing true anxiety.

If Gaara hadn't been so annoyed at the moment, he might have smirked. He'd had a hard time adjusting to the acceptance of his brother and sister after Shukaku was removed, just as they had a hard time accepting him as another human. He truly appreciated their almost parental concern towards him, the mentally fragile youngest sibling, but over the years he just couldn't ignore the fact that Kankuro's constant badgering about 'cutting loose' and 'taking it easy' had become rather irritating. As Kazekage he had certain duties to fulfill and expectations to rise up to and overcome. Drinking and partying were not actions well thought of by the village elders.

"No, thank you, Kankuro." Flip.

He persisted. "Come on! Look, it's a small place. Not a lot of people know about it, so no one's gonna hound you about being there. It's a small bar with a really small dance floor. It's perfect for getting up-close and personal with the ladies." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and made a dirty motion as though dancing with multiple imaginary women.

Gaara could think of only one woman he wanted to get up-close and personal with.

He quickly ducked his head in chagrin. "Don't sweat your makeup off," he deadpanned. Scratch. Flip.

Kankuro dropped his hands and let his face become blank. "Was that an attempt at a joke?"

Gaara said nothing. Better to just look angry than admit to a failed sense of humor.

Kankuro looked angrily at Gaara. "You really are no fun, you know that? You're twenty years old. Get an apprentice or something. Make them do the paperwork so you can go out and have a _life_! I bet you that Tsunade shoves tons of work off on Sakura all the—"

Gaara glanced up quickly at the mention of Sakura and, to his surprise, locked gaze with Kankuro by accident.

Shit.

There was no way Kankuro missed that.

The man in question looked down curiously and narrowed his eyes at Gaara. "What?" he asked quickly.

Gaara glared back and returned to his paperwork without a word. Scratch. Flip. Scratch. Flip.

"I could ask Sakura herself. She would tell me. I bet she has to sign and fill out all kinds of crap for Tsunade." Kankuro continued. There was a calculating edge to his tone, though. He knew something had caught Gaara's interest. Now he was just trying to figure out just what it was.

Gaara didn't rise to the bait.

Scratch. Flip.

"I wonder what Sakura's doing tonight."

Bathing in all her white porcelain and pink blossom glory? Gulp. Scratch. Flip.

"She's a really nice girl."

Scratch. Flip.

"Good ninja, too."

Scratch. Flip.

"She's kinda cute."

Scrat—Fuck! How could he have misspelled his own name? Damn Kankuro…

"Aha!"

Damn it. That was all it took. Kankuro had been carefully monitoring Gaara's reactions to each statement. That last one had jarred his younger brother enough that he accidentally added an extra line to the last character of his name. Gaara took a calming breath and set the parchment aside.

"Do you have something going on with Sakura?" Kankuro asked, slightly smug with himself.

Gaara did not acknowledge his question, but he did not pick up another piece of paper for fear that he would mess up again if Kankuro said anything else suggestive about the kunoichi. Instead he listened to the quiet hush of sand seeping from his gourd, a nearly-silent warning for Kankuro to shut the hell up or suffer the consequences.

Kankuro's grin faded and he eyed Gaara cautiously. "Alright, calm down. It's cool. I don't care if you have a thing with the girl."

Gaara looked up at his brother. "I have no _thing_ with Miss Haruno," he nearly spat. "She is in Suna to train the medical unit. That is all."

Kankuro raised his eyebrows at Gaara's hostility, wary of the sand still creeping menacingly toward him. "No need to get all offended, man. I was just curious, is all."

"Don't be."

The elder brother finally shrugged in submission. It was not worth getting choked with sand, he decided. He backed slowly towards the door with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Alright, alright, I get the message. But you know," he stopped about halfway between the desk and the door, "It's no crime to like someone, Gaara." When Gaara made no sign or acknowledgement that he understood him, Kankuro shrugged again. "Look, if you ever need anything, you can… come to me, ok? If you have any questions, or if we…_ahem_… need to have _the talk_, I can do that too."

Gaara arched a cynical, nonexistent eyebrow. Kankuro winked. "It's what big bros are for, right?" With a final tilt of his head, he turned around to exit the room.

Gaara thought quickly about his brother's last remark. He wondered if perhaps, just this once, Kankuro was right. What if confiding in his brother would help alleviate some of the confusion that had been building up inside his head like a sinus infection?

"Kankuro," he called before the man was out of earshot. "Come back." Kankuro returned with a knowing grin playing on his face. It nearly made Gaara regret his decision, but the curiosity and confusion was overwhelming. "Alright," he said wearily, "Let's talk."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Sakura strolled down the road a tad dissatisfied with her day. First her students had hounded her about simple medical procedures until she wanted to scream, then Tsunade had ignored her request to be transferred to a hotel, and finally Gaara had gone and been intrusive and infuriating. She couldn't even fully enjoy her bath because she was haunted by thoughts of him the entire time. Was he thinking about her in the bath? Did he wonder what kind of scented soap she was using? Half of her wanted to heave with disgust and anger, but a deeper part found herself flattered with the idea that he would think about her when she was away. Stupid Inner Self and her wishful ideas.

Her bath was terrific, otherwise. The warm water soothed her aches, and she'd felt extremely refreshed. It was nice to simply indulge and not worry about using all the hot water or running up the water and electricity bill. She spent an entire half an hour just sitting and taking pleasure in the natural splendor of a hot bath. The bath house even supplied her favorite vanilla-scented body wash. For thirty whole minutes, she felt like a true woman again, pampered and content.

Now, however, she was once again a kunoichi on a mission. She had no time for the simple pleasures of life; just get the job done and get back to Konoha. _Oh Konoha_, Inner Sakura sighed, _How I miss thee…_ Being a native of the Hidden Leaf certainly had its drawbacks when one was stationed in Sunagakure. The hot Suna sun was beating down on her already warm body, still flushed from the heat of the water. It made her want to take a cold shower, just to lower her body temperature. Her still-wet hair was dripping down into the front and back of her shirt, making her skin feel sticky and sweaty all-over again. It wasn't quite enough to completely cancel out that satisfied feeling from her bath, but it was damn close. PMS would make sure of that, though, unless she countered it fast. What she needed now was a bar of chocolate, or else this day was going to be a bust.

Unfortunately, water was more expensive in the desert. Duh. It was a good thing she'd snatched some extra dough; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to enjoy a bath at all. At the time she was simply too excited for the promise of indulgence to consider that she'd have no money left afterward. Damn desert with its stupid fifteen inches of annual rainfall.

With her endorphin level steadily depleting, Sakura made her way back towards the direction of the Kazekage tower. It stood looming over the other buildings of the city, casting a long, merciful shadow over a few lucky edifices. The pink-haired Shinobi strode confidently, though with underlying dread, up the stairs into what she considered her temporary prison. Oh sure—_technically_ she could leave anytime she wanted. It wasn't literal confinement, but a girl can exaggerate every now and again. By Tsunade's orders, she was to stay in the Kazekage mansion for the remainder of her one month bet with the Kazekage himself. It damn well felt like a prison right about now.

Cool air from the inside brushed past her and chilled the moisture still clinging to her skin. _Great_, she sighed, _now I'm cold. _She cast a cautious glance around the empty lobby. Mitaya wasn't at her desk, but Sakura was less concerned with her whereabouts and more so about whom she suspected was in his office right now, and how she would bypass him safely and without any awkward conversation.

Luckily, though, it seemed the man in question had a visitor in his office. Sakura could hear the muffled remnants of a conversation coming from inside. _I wonder who's in there, or what they're talking about,_ she pondered. She took a hesitant step towards the closed door—_No!_ It would be completely inappropriate to eavesdrop on a Kage's conversation. Doing such a thing could get her sent back to Konoha or, depending on the severity of the conversation, imprisoned. It was not worth the risk, she decided. _Probably nothing interesting anyway, _she sighed,_ like a village elder or something_. She turned and headed back toward the direction of the sleeping quarters.

But suddenly the characteristic tingle in her ear of three distinctive syllables caught her attention. She'd heard her own name uttered hundreds of times by friends, comrades, teachers, and enemies alike. It had become instinctive since the time she was a genin to listen for her name being called in case someone she knew was in danger. Now, to hear it mumble through the closed doors of Gaara's office, it rattled her. She spun around quickly and eyed the office suspiciously. He was talking about her, she realized, but to whom?

Carefully, Sakura edged towards the door using every ounce of ninja stealth she'd acquired over the years. She couldn't use her chakra; Gaara would sense it. In fact, he might simply sense her presence anyways. He _was_ Kazekage after all. If he couldn't sense the approach of a foreign kunoichi from twenty feet away, he didn't deserve the title. Still, she edged closer. Her curiosity was domineering. She sidled against the wall and inched her way closer to crack in the doors. With her ear pressed against the wall, she slowed her breathing and listened.

"So what's the problem, man? I don't see it. You need to just loosen up."

"Nn."

"I'm being serious, here!"

"Really? This is you being serious?"

"C'mon, man, really. It's completely natural. Frankly, I'm proud of you. You missed all this kind of stuff growing up, and now you have to experience it late. You need to go out and have some fun, have a couple drinks, and then maybe you can talk to—"

"Kankuro, for the last time, I am not going out drinking with you."

So Gaara was talking with his brother, Kankuro. It seemed he was encouraging Gaara to… have fun? But Sakura couldn't understand how her name fit into the context of this conversation.

"Look, Gaara, do whatever you decide, but if you wait around and do nothing about it, it's only going to get worse. And sooner or later, you'll have missed your opportunity."

Sakura was extremely confused. What opportunity could Kankuro be referring to? As far as she herself was concerned, couldn't the only possibility be Gaara's opportunity to send her back to Konoha? She seethed at the thought. This conversation made no sense. _I should never have trespassed!_ she thought angrily. As quickly and quietly as she could, Sakura darted on light feet away from the office. She felt traitorous and embarrassed and suddenly wanted to disappear back into her room, or to the bathhouse, or back to her apartment in Konoha, anywhere away from that horrible, confusing man.

In his office, however, said man wanted nothing more to be with the girl who hated him. Despite all the nonsense Kankuro had spouted within the last hour, including the part about where babies come from, he had enlightened Gaara to one important detail:

"_Call it lust, call it desire. You can call it whatever you want, man. But the truth of the matter is you like Haruno Sakura. You have a crush, so just chill and let it play out. Talk to her; invite her to dinner or something. There's nothing wrong about that…"_  
Gaara liked her. It was such a simple thing, and yet so complicated at the same time. He had no idea how to act or how to respond to such a thing. Instead he had just sat and listened to Kankuro babble on, saying nothing consequential to encourage his older brother's nonsense.

Suddenly the hair on the back of Gaara's neck prickled. He felt another presence, a familiar one. Kankuro didn't seem to notice, but Gaara could definitely smell the sweet sent of vanilla creeping under the doorway. His stomach dropped. She was back…

She was close…

He rose to his feet and clenched his fists while his sand shuddered and spilled across the floor. Kankuro, surprised at his brother's sudden outburst, held up his hands in innocence. "Gaara," he began, "Look, no need to get angry. If you didn't want my advice, you could have just said so—"

Gaara shot him a silencing glare, forcing Kankuro to be quiet and calm. As soon as he stopped talking, he too felt the other presence. With a wide grin he whispered, "She's back, huh." Before Gaara could say anything else, Kankuro swept around and opened the door to the office. "Hey, Sakura!" he called.

Sakura froze in horror. They'd caught her! Oh, no… this was going to be horrible. Gaara would send her back to Konoha for sure. Tsunade would be pissed, not to mention disappointed in her for not handling the situation like she should have. This was her _mission_, and now she'd blown it.

"Hey, what's up? I haven't seen you in years!" Kankuro continued. Sheepishly, Sakura turned to face him with a wary smile. As with Temari, she'd never really known Kankuro, but here he was acting like they were good old buddies.

"Um, hello, Kankuro-san," she said. "You look…" _Purple?_ "…Well."

Kankuro's grin widened. "You too! You look great!"

Sakura was flattered, but still wary. She nodded politely. "Thank you." Her feet were itching to turn and walk away, but Kankuro stopped her once again.

"Hey your hair looks wet. Were you just at the bathhouse?"

_No, actually, I just decided to dunk my head in a fish tank,_ she thought angrily. Why would he say something like that out loud, with _Gaara_ in earshot? When she failed to respond to his question, Kankuro continued, "Well, I hope you had a good _soak_."

Now _that_ last comment had to be pushing _some_ kind of boundary. Was Kankuro flirting with her? Or was that just his sense of humor? Regardless, it was her cue to leave the conversation. "I, um, have a report to write, so if you'll excuse me."

Kankuro continued to smile as if nothing odd had just occurred between them. He watched her disappear hurriedly down the corridor.

"Well, that was awkward, huh?" he said nonchalantly as he turned back to face his brother. The sight he beheld was terrifying. Gaara was fuming with anger, and his sand sat twitching and hovering around him, prepared to strike.

"Kankuro," Gaara whispered, "Get out. Now. Before I kill you."

Kankuro didn't need a second warning. He waved good-humoredly and hopped away as quickly as he could. Though he felt it was his duty as the annoying older brother to tease his lovesick little sibling, he made a mental note to never do it again. He preferred his body intact, thank you. He did, however, plan to have a long interesting talk with Temari that night.

Gaara took slow, steady breaths to calm himself. Why would Kankuro do something like that? _Because he's an idiot_, he reminded himself. It was completely within Kankuro's character to embarrass Gaara like that, out-of-line though it may be. Gaara knew his brother enjoyed dancing along the thin line between disrespect of his Kazekage and playful joking with his socially-awkward little brother, and likewise Gaara sometimes didn't know whether to be angry or amused by it. This time, however, Kankuro had gone too far. If Sakura had not left when she did, Gaara might have snapped his brother's neck then and there.

_Argh, Sakura! _How much did she overhear? What was she thinking when Kankuro addressed her? Did she… _know_? Gaara felt the chakra begin to slowly recede, as a new, familiar feeling encroached upon his body. He was worried: worried about Sakura's reaction, worried about what she would say if he called her in. He felt it in his gut, the fluttering sickness choking his insides. She would think him childish, insolent, probably naïve. She had pushed to stay in Suna on a mission, nothing more. He was nothing to her but her superior; he was not Gaara, he was the Kazekage.

"Just as it should be," he muttered to himself. With a sigh, he sat back down. By now he was already set back in his paperwork nearly two hours.

_"__A Kazekage's work is never finished."_

_Good_, he thought. There was always more work to do. Gaara decided to delve himself into his work. He would no longer think of Haruno Sakura as anything more than what she was: the Leaf kunoichi, here to train his medical unit.

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Well, there ya go. As I said before, I would love to see some reviews, be they positive or negative.

No knowing when I'll have the next chapter up. Hopefully soon, but I apologize in advance if that's not the case.

Til next time,

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	3. Where Gaara is Offered an Invitation

Ah, hello again.

Originally I had planned on only posting one chapter per week of Sakura's monthly stay in Suna, but the positive reviews I received put me in such a good mood that I've decided to go ahead and put this snip-bit as another chapter. It's rather short, and does not complete this "week's" portion of the story, but I figured it's not doing me any good just sitting around waiting to be published. So I'm giving it to you. ^^

Just as a fair note, this chapter truly introduces the deviation of plot line between the original AOMB and the revamped version. The next chapter I post will contain a scene that was never mentioned at all in the first story. I hope this is not too upsetting, but I believe it will make the story much more coherent in later chapters.

Again, thank you for those of you who have reviewed.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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Sakura heaved a heavy sigh as she stepped out of the hospital. Two weeks down, two to go. Slowly but surely, her students were improving, though that doesn't go to say she hadn't felt like killing a few of them throughout the week. At one point, on Tuesday, she became so annoyed with repeating the same procedure over and over again that she used too much chakra and sliced the cadaver in two. On the upside, though, her students stopped their incessant questioning and decided to watch and mimic her techniques in silence. It was the most progress they'd made in two weeks!

Perhaps they were simply afraid of dismemberment…

A few fearful chunin passed by and gave her wary glances. She offered them a cheery smile and hopped down the steps. After the incident with Gaara and Kankuro on Saturday, she'd struggled with cramps, headaches, and murderous mood swings. Thankfully, Temari had shown up to save the day with a bottle of pain-killers and some chocolate on Monday, and Sakura's monthly friend came the following afternoon. Now that it was Saturday again, she was free from Mother Nature for another month, and surprisingly, she was in a good mood.

She practically skipped down the street, drawing curious glances as she did so. But Sakura didn't care at the moment. She was tired of working, and unlike many other away-missions, she had the opportunity to have a little fun. With the help of a friendly passerby, Sakura retrieved directions to the Suna training grounds, which she eventually found twenty minutes later. They were on the outskirts town, composed primarily of one golden sand dune after another. She watched the sand roll lazily from one dune top to the next. _It really is beautiful_, she thought as she gazed over one of the empty fields. Though Sakura missed and longed for the cool, green forests of Konoha, she could not deny that Suna had it's own unique, exotic beauty. She felt the warm air bristle past the exposed parts on her legs, carrying sand with it that scratched her skin. It was the heat that finally brought her back to reality. If she stayed in the sun too long, she would get burnt, and though she could heal the burn easily, the tan lines it would leave behind were less than attractive and not particularly desired.

Sakura browsed the fields nonchalantly, looking for a glimpse of a familiar folding fan. From what Sakura had come to learn of Temari in the past two weeks, she was the type of kunoichi who enjoyed training nearly everyday. Well, at the very least, she enjoyed _beating_ her opponents nearly everyday. If Sakura was lucky, she would find her among one of these fields.

"Hey! Sakura!"

Sakura turned to see Temari engaged in a battle with another sand nin down in field number five. She waved to the pink-haired girl quickly and then held up a single finger. "One sec, 'kay?"

Sakura watched Temari make several signs and then open her flag to three full moons. With a single push, she forced a gust of wind and sand so strong that it encompassed the entire field, burying her opponent and collapsing a nearby dune. She then folded her fan, gave an acknowledging salute to the coughing, sputtering ninja across the field, and jogged up the dune to meet Sakura. Her pigtails bounced with every step.

"Hey Sakura-chan! What's up?"

Sakura smiled and gestured to the other ninja down below. "That was impressive. Well done."

Temari winked and shot her a playful grin. "Nah, I was just warming up. That was nothin'."

Sakura smiled. She was really coming to like Temari, blunt and bold as she was. "Are you busy tonight?" Sakura asked. Temari smirked.

"Looking for a fun Saturday night in Suna?" She waggled her eyebrows and shoved Sakura playfully with her elbow.

Sakura grinned. "Something like that."

"You came to the right kunoichi. Let's head back home so I can clean up." As they began walking, she added, "Maybe you can convince Gaara to come, too."

Sakura's smile faded. _Gaara_. She was always so confused by him. Last week it seemed as though he was devoting his time to scrutinizing her, purposely trying to discourage her. This week he had hardly called her in for meetings at all. When he did, he asked her two specific questions:

"_What have you taught the unit today?"_

"_Internal injuries and how to locate and heal them."_

"_And are the students progressing?"_

"_Yes, Kazekage-sama."_

"_We shall see."_

And that was that. He sent her away. He was swamped with paperwork and assigning missions and discussing political matters with the village elders. She had become a speck, just another check on his to-do list. It was as if he no longer cared about his deal with her or the fact that he didn't have his specialized "team of medical nin." When Sakura had first arrived, that's what he had been so adamant about receiving. Now it seemed he'd become to busy to acknowledge her presence.

_It's precisely what you wanted, isn't it?_ Inner Sakura chirped. Sakura frowned. _Then why do I feel so lonely?_

When they arrived at the mansion, Sakura was grateful that Temari neither mentioned Gaara again nor traveled in the direction of his office. They went straight to her room so Temari could freshen up, just as she'd promised. Even Sakura took the time to put on a little of the makeup that Temari offered her and changed into a more feminine shirt. She'd brought with her only work and training attire, but her new friend was generous. "Just give it back when we come home," Temari said, "No worries."

The two women ambled wantonly towards the front of the mansion. Sakura began towards the door, but Temari pulled her back. "Hold up. We'll go out the back. The village elders might see us. Those old farts have eyes everywhere."

Sakura was confused, but didn't remain so for long. To her dismay, Temari strode quickly up to Gaara's office, without even acknowledging Mitaya. "Gaara!" she barked. There was a muffled response from the other side of the door. Temari opened the door enough to see her brother at his desk.

"I said go away." Gaara sighed.

"You work too much." Temari scowled. "Look, _Sakura_ and I are going out tonight. You should join us."

Gaara's head snapped up at the infliction Temari put on Sakura's name. He growled low in his throat. _Kankuro told her…_

"Sakura," she called over her shoulder, "Don't you think Gaara should come with us?"

Heat rose to Sakura's cheeks and she turned her face away. "Kazekage-sama is probably very busy," she said quietly. Temari made a face and shrugged.

"Alright, you party-pooper. Stay here with your papers." She closed the door and headed back towards Sakura. "C'mon," she said, "I'll show you the back way."

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Gaara growled and crumpled up a paper in frustration. Damn Kankuro! He wasn't supposed to tell anyone, least of all Temari. If Sakura didn't already know how he felt about her, she would soon with Temari on her arm. He slumped back in his chair, exhausted. For five days he'd pushed himself harder than he had since his first year of being Kazekage. He was staying up all night again, reading and signing and approving and vetoing. His body was fatigued, his temper was short, and he'd neglected to go out training in far too long. All this mess with the medical unit and Haruno Sakura had left him frazzled. He felt desperate to see her, but he forced himself to stay distant.

How could he possibly speak to her in a conversation? He could practically see her disdain for him rolling off her shoulders every time she was in his office. He supposed he deserved it. As Kazekage, it was inappropriate to engage Miss Haruno in any other kind of relationship other than business. Not to mention he didn't even know how to do such a thing.

He sighed. Kankuro was right. Gaara had missed the important developmental stages of his teen years. He'd gone from demon to Kazekage to death to Kazekage again with hardly anytime in between. He knew the girls of his village found him handsome and mysterious, but he never purposely provoked them. Suna was his life, his mission. He'd dedicated his time and well-being to improving his war-torn village. And even if he had the opportunity to speak to Sakura just as himself, not as the Kazekage, how would he do it? What would he say? He'd never been interested in a woman, never gone on a date…

Never been kissed.

And yet before _she_ arrived, none of that had mattered to him.

Gaara rubbed his hands through the disheveled locks of his hair and traced his fingers over the kanji symbol on his forehead. What if he had gone with them tonight? What if he had finally relented to Kankuro and Temari's incessant demands? Sakura would've been there, not as a kunoichi, but just as a woman. And he would've been there, not as the Kazekage, but just as a man. Just a man and a woman.

Would it have made a difference, or would Sakura still hate him?

"_Kazekage-sama is probably very busy."_

"Sama," he echoed to himself. "Kazekage-sama." Formal and unattached. That's all he would ever be to her.

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Alrighty then. If you hadn't already figured it out, I love reviews. Then again, who doesn't? However this chapter serves as proof that reviews encourage me to write more, and in turn, publish sooner, so have at it!

Remember, I love criticism!

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	4. Where Sakura Has A Couple Drinks

Ah, yes. Good day to all.

Sometimes I wonder who actually reads these author's notes. I remember that when I was very much into reading fanfiction, I was would always just scroll til I hit the story. Now that I've been publishing my own stories for a while, it leaves me feeling slightly uneasy. I know some readers do, but to think most would just skim over my friendly little messages is a little saddening.

Sorry. Didn't mean to get carried away there. Here I have, for your enjoyment (or ridicule), a scene that never appeared in the original version of A One Month Bet. When I first reread through AOMB and decided to revise it, I knew I would have to include this scene, or at least one similar to it. I don't mean to give anything away for those of you who might not be familiar with the story, so I'm just going to shut up now and let you read. You probably skipped past all that just now anyways.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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The small bar that Temari led Sakura to was some distance away near the inner-western part of the city. The streets had begun to grow dim as they arrived. It was cramped into the side of an alleyway, with a dark-lit door barely visible from the street. Sakura was wary about being in an unfamiliar environment. She'd gone out drinking with Naruto and some other friends in the past, but she'd really only known Temari a number of days. She could only hope that her new friend could hold her liquor enough to find her way back to the mansion, because otherwise Sakura would truly be lost, and while she was sure she could hold her own against any robbers or things of the sort, it wasn't something she was particularly hoping to run into.

_Stop worrying!_ Inner Sakura scolded. _You're here to have fun, remember? Now get in there and enjoy yourself!_ Sakura took a calming breath and followed Temari through the entrance way. Inside it was loud and hot and vibrant. The bar lined one side of the room, while a small dance floor occupied by obviously too many people monopolized the other. Sakura didn't recognize the music that was playing, but it had an easy beat, and she liked it.

"I'll get us some drinks!" Temari shouted over the music. Sakura nodded and followed behind her, gazing into the dancing crowd as she did so. A familiar, tattooed face was bobbing among the bodies. When Kankuro spotted her, he motioned for her to join him. She smiled and shook her head politely, so Kankuro made his way to her instead. She smiled with true amusement as he tried rhythmically to bounce is way out of the chaotic mass.

"Hey Sakura!" he shouted while dislodging his lower half from between two dancing bodies. Sakura still felt a tad awkward around him, for she hadn't seen Kankuro since the previous Saturday, when he'd… Knowingly? Unknowingly?... embarrassed her in front of Gaara. She still wasn't sure, and so she greeted him shiftily, maintaining just enough distance away from him so as not to seem too personable. Temari returned just in time to relieve Sakura of her discomfort.

"I didn't know what you liked," she yelled while handing Sakura a colorful drink, "So I got you something fruity." She turned to her brother and said, "Shoulda known you'd be here. I'm surprised they haven't kicked you out yet."

"Nah," Kankuro grinned as he tugged playfully at one of her pigtails. "I'm not drunk enough yet."

Temari slapped his hand away and gave him a glare of warning. No one tugged at her pigtails and expected to live another day. Kankuro laughed and held up both his hands in surrender. He backed away toward the crowd and said, "Besides, I got a lovely little lady waiting back for me on the dance floor, so I'll be here for a while."

Sakura blinked in surprise. Kankuro was here with a date, it seemed. Some of her unease dissipated. A week ago she thought perhaps he'd been flirting with her with his deliberate mention of her "soak" at the bathhouse. Now, however, he was hurriedly bumping his way back to a dark-haired woman across the dance floor.

As though sensing Sakura's thoughts, Temari nudged her in the arm. "Don't worry about Kankuro. He's eighty-percent talented Shinobi, twenty-percent idiot. He's got a bit of a rep for being a party boy, but he's a good guy." Sakura smiled at the reassurance. The character distribution reminded her of perhaps her closest friend, Naruto, though she believed in his case the values might have been switched.

Sakura and Temari sat at the bar a while, chatting and sipping at their drinks. Sakura's drink tasted of strawberries, something she would not have anticipated in a bar located in a desert. The sweet tang of it masked the bite of the alcohol, and so it encouraged every subsequent sip. Every now and again, Kankuro would escape the overwhelming horde of dancers and have a drink with them. The more she talked with them, less uncomfortable she felt. She even accepted Kankuro's invitation to dance with him… after another drink-and-a-half, that is. She met his date, a petite young woman who was clearly not of the ninja variety, but who greeted her pleasantly and who didn't seem to be offended with the fact that Kankuro would be dancing with both of them.

Dancing was a rather loose term to use, however, as Sakura was soon to discover. The dance floor was so cramped that all she could really do was jump up and down to the ever-changing beat of the music. She was truly having a good time, though. Once, while resting at the bar after a particularly fast song was played, a sandy-haired man with a dark-skinned complexion pulled up a seat next to her.

"Is that your natural hair color?" he asked in a gravely voice.

As if she hadn't heard that one before.

Albeit the crappy pick-up line, Sakura turned to face him. He was a handsome young man, though his heavy eyelids betrayed just how drunk he was. Sakura, however, was not intrigued in the least. His hair wasn't red enough, his eyes weren't dark enough, and there was no blood-red, tell-tale mark on his forehead. Also, his voice sounded as though he'd swallowed a mouthful of wet sand. Could this perhaps be the sand nin Temari had smothered with a sandstorm earlier? Sakura smirked at the thought. Regardless, his voice did not send shivers cascading down her body the way the dark, sultry tone of a certain other man's would have. Her cheeks, though already flushed from the heat of the room, soon blazed even brighter as she realized she was thinking about Subaku no Gaara. Her intruder mistakenly assumed her blush was meant for him, and he scooted nearer to her so that his knee touched hers.

"Can I bry you a dink?" he slurred heavily. Though Sakura was a little buzzed herself, she was not yet inebriated enough to fall for this creep. Already he was leaning in too close, as though he might fall off his bar stool and onto her.

"No, thank you," she said quickly and edged off her seat.

"You wanna dance?" he tried again, but as he took a step toward her, he actually did fall to the floor. The bartender rolled his eyes and motioned for another, more muscular man to help escort Mr. Gravel out. Temari, who had been watching from afar on the dance floor, hurried to Sakura's side. Nothing needed to be said. They simply started laughing uncontrollably, holding onto each other for support.

Some time later, after more dancing and more drinks and the departure of Kankuro's date, the trio sat at the bar all together. Kankuro seemed a tad disheartened that his "lovely lady" had abandoned him without so much as giving him a phone number, and he was happy to take out his frustration on a fresh bottle of amber liquid.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Kankuro," Temari sighed while lounging backward against the bar. "There's always more ssand in the dessert."

"You mean desert," Sakura corrected shakily. She chuckled and finished off her fifth drink of the night. Thankfully she had enough physical control to remain steady and mostly coherent, but this was perhaps the most drunk she'd been in months. Last time, Naruto had tricked her into playing truth or dare—Not a mistake she was likely to make again. He'd dared her to accompany him on a real date. Never again would she wake up at the counter of Ichiraku next to a snoring Naruto with his face half-submerged in a puddle of cold beef ramen.

Kankuro grouchily took a swig from his bottle.

Temari sat up to shift her seat position, but the movement was too quick and it made her sway. Proud kunoichi as she was, she growled and made a grim, thin line with her lips. "Damn, man. Thiss is gonna freaking suck tomorrow. I'll have to go back to work on—"

"Oh, shut it, Temari," Kankuro scowled as he took another swig of his drink. "You sound like Gaara."

Sakura's smile faded, but she said nothing. She didn't even crack a smile when Temari slapped her brother upside the head, causing him to blubber and spill some of his drink. He growled and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. In an attempt to lift the hostility from the conversation, he shifted his tone and took another sip. "So you couldn't convince him to come tonight either, huh?" he inquired.

Temari shrugged, "Nope. I even told him Sakura was coming."

Sakura snapped her attention on Temari's comment. "What's so important about me?" she asked wryly. Surely her presence would hold no sway over the Kazekage's decision to remain unassociated with the party scene. If anything, Sakura felt that Gaara would view her in distaste of the subject. He'd given her free reign to do with her free time whatever she pleased, but she doubted going to club, drinking and partying, would earn her any favorable respect from him.

Temari and Kankuro shared a single, knowing glance that Sakura took to be a look of drunken allocation. "Nothing," Kankuro grunted.

Temari, despite her inebriated state, shrugged indifferently. "Usually Kankuro is the one to urge Gaara to go out and have a good time, but ssometimes I do it, like tonight. We figured if someone new was going, he might finally give in."

Sakura was sketchy. Her intuition told her that wasn't the whole truth, but before she could ask another question, Kankuro shifted in his seat and tilted his liquor towards her. "Doesn' your Hokage take time out of her busy schedule to go out and have fun every nowinagin?" He took a moment to try and sober up his speech a bit before continuing to say, "I thought she had a thing for sake."

Sakura was too drunk to be offended by the comment about her Hokage. Instead she blinked and angled herself slightly away. "Tsunade-shishou takes her job very seriously. She gave up drinking sake when sshe became Hokage." Well, at least it was mostly true. Sakura guessed Tsunade would've loved to go out partying, or in her case, gambling, if given the chance. She also knew, because she was her trusted apprentice, that her shishou would sometimes get so frustrated with work that she would shove off some menial reports on Sakura and go indulge in bottle or two. But Sakura would never betray her beloved teacher, because for all her past drinking problems, Tsunade had sobered up and accepted the title of Hokage, though hesitantly, with pride. She had brought their village back into order during a time of war, and she had taken Sakura under her wing, a blessing Sakura would never forget.

Kankuro wasn't entirely happy with Sakura's reply. He grimaced and countered with, "Well, she's kinda older, right? I mean, Gaara's only twenty. He's misssing out on the freaking prime of his life."

Sakura pondered this fact for a while, mostly because it was true. Beautiful, busty Tsunade looked to be in her late twenties, when in reality she was old enough to be Sakura's grandmother, perhaps even great grandmother. She had definitely seen her share of fun, and hard, times. Gaara, on the other hand, was roughly the same age as Sakura, and up until about five years ago he'd been forced to share his existence with a demon, a monster caged inside his body. His childhood had been filled with death, hate, and fear, even from the siblings who were so concerned with his current well-being. It wasn't until he met and fought with Naruto, another bird of the same, blood-tainted feather, that he'd rediscovered the value of life. At the ripe age of fifteen he was granted the title of Kazekage, but he was soon kidnapped and killed by the Akatsuki. Once he was revived by the famous and revered Chiyo-sama, he was reinstated, and that was the extent of Sakura's knowledge of him. Had Gaara ever had any time to simply be a child? A teenager? A man? Had he ever been loved? Ever had the opportunity to love in return? Sakura guessed that he had not, even unto this day. She frowned with genuine sympathy. How sad his life must've been. How… lonely.

As though confirming her thoughts, Temari nodded slowly. "We've tried for years to get him to loosen up." she said somewhat sadly. "He needs it."

"He needs to get laid," Kankuro grunted. "The prick."

Sakura gaped at his bluntness. He'd been quite fun to be around at the start of the evening, but it seemed the drunker Kankuro got, the more angry he became. Or maybe he was still just miffed about being stood up.

Temari scoffed. "Hah! I don't think he'd know how." She sent a wink in Sakura's direction, which in turn led another rush of heat into Sakura's cheeks. Temari continued as though she had not noticed. "I don't think he'd even know how to kiss a girl! He's never had a girlfriend. If he ever did, he was pret-ty damn secret about it."

Kankuro shook his head. "No, there'ss no way. He's never esspres—expreps…"

"Expressed?" Sakura offered. She was now intrigued by the conversation, perhaps more so, she noted, than she should be.

Kankuro nodded and went on with what he was saying: "He's never ex-pressed any interest in anybody until—"

Temari shot him a warning glare, drunk though she was, that silenced her brother mid-statement. But it was too late. Sakura had already caught on. "Until?" she pressed, "Until… now?"

A beat of hesitance passed between brother and sister, but ultimately it was Temari who gave in. "Yeah. Gaara… apparently… has found someone he's intersted in."

"Intersted in," Sakura echoed slowly, no longer caring that both she and Temari were too drunk to pronounce 'interested' correctly. "Who's he intersted in?"

Kankuro answered quickly, "Dunno. Won't tellus."

It was easy enough to believe, so Sakura didn't push the matter. Why would Subaku no Gaara, in all his solitude, tell anyone whom he had feelings for? _It could be you_, the hazy inner corridors of her mind whispered—No. Ridiculous. It was the alcohol talking.

"But!" Kankuro drew Sakura from her musings once again, and she looked at him attentively. "It wouldn' matter if he told anyone because _he's_ decided that he's not gonna purse it."

"Pursue it." Temari corrected lazily.

"Right," Kankuro gruffed. "So it doesn' matter."

"But it wouldn' do'im any good if he did, because he wouldn' know what he was doing," his sister chuckled casually. "It's like he's chasing a sandstorm: if he ever finally caught it, what the hell would he do with all that sand?"

Sakura blinked heavily at the metaphor. Her mind was swimming with too much alcohol to fully understand what Temari was saying. She doubted that comparison would've made any sense even if she was sober.

With a final swig, Kankuro finished off his drink. The bottle left his lips with a wet '_pop!_' and he set it down with a sigh. To discover it was empty made him look just as sad as when his date had split, but instead of ordering another he simply shifted his attention back to the conversation. "What he needs is a _lesson_."

"A lesson?" Sakura ventured curiously.

"Yeah!" Temari said as she sat up, suddenly very excited. "A lesson! From someone who knows what they're doing!"

Kankuro nodded, "Mhm. But we couldn' just get anybody. He'd turn 'em away."

"Right. So it needs to be someone he knows."

"Someone close by."

"Someone he could trust."

The ocean of alcohol that was churning in Sakura's dizzy head suddenly parted as though it were the Red Sea. She looked quickly from Temari to Kankuro to Temari again, realizing all too soon what they were talking about.

"Me?" she squeaked.

"That's so noble of you to offer, Sakura-chan!" Temari grinned. Sakura shook her head quickly as she blushed again, her cheeks hotter than ever before.

"Nonononononono, I couldn't. I can't! He's the Kazekage and I—"

"Ah, c'mon. Just one lesson!" Kankuro smiled. Despite his misfortune with his lady friend, this was the most excited he'd looked all night.

"Look don't worry sso much," Temari giggled, "Just a little kissing lesson."

Sakura gulped, trying hard to hold her liquor down. The butterflies now dancing in her stomach at the thought of Temari's proposal were _not_ getting along well with all those drinks she'd downed. She imagined herself kissing Gaara. It was a thought that had not yet crossed her mind, but she wasn't too alarmed that Inner Sakura thoroughly enjoyed it. To press her lips against his, to feel the warmth his mouth. The butterflies increased in number.

Her thoughts were jarred as Temari touched her shoulder gently. "It doesn' have to mean anything. We just want him to have an idea of what he's up against."

Kankuro nodded, "In case he _does_ decide to purse it."

A number of Sakura's butterflies began dropping like lead to the pit of her stomach. Suddenly her excitement had morphed into… remorse._ I won't be kissing Gaara… _She thought sadly,_ It won't be me. Not really. I'm just a teacher…_

"_Sakura-sensei…"_

She nearly gagged at the thought. She wanted so badly for it to be _more_ than a lesson. She wanted to kiss Gaara, _really_ kiss him. She hated the fact that whatever kiss they might share would lack feeling, lack intimacy. It would only be something for him to use in the future… Something to use on some other woman.

_It's not like he and I have a future anyways…_ she sulked. Normally she would've discarded a thought like that, but the alcohol let free many hidden feelings she'd been trying to ignore. She liked Gaara. She'd been attracted to him the moment she'd stepped into his office two weeks ago. She was upset that he treated her distantly, excited when he called her for meetings, brief though they were. If he wasn't the Kazekage, and she wasn't from Konoha, perhaps things might've been different. Maybe they could've met like any other accidental couple. Like at the grocery store.

"_Well, if it isn't Subaku no Gaara! Buying eggs, I see."_

"_Haruno Sakura. Good to see you again. I like eggs."_

"_I like eggs, too."_

"_You do, huh? Ya don't say."_

Done. Happily ever after, right there.

Sakura chewed on her cheek. What was she thinking? There was absolutely no chance for her. Gaara was Gaara. She could not imagine him to be anyone else than who he was, and he was the Kazekage. _IS the Kazekage._ Things like 'happily-ever-afters' did not exist in the world of a Shinobi.

Sakura was so deep in thought that remembering the outside world was still going on rattled her. Temari had to shake her shoulder to bring her back to real time. "Sakura-chan?" she asked.

Sakura readjusted to her environment. The music had died down and the dance floor was clearing out. It would be time to head back to the mansion soon.

"Sakura, will you do it?"

_This could be your only opportunity… _Inner Sakura whispered. Sakura looked at her friends, gave them a weary smile.

"I'll do it."

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Aha! You see?

If you're feeling overly industrious right now you might go look back on AOMB. This never happened then! But if you know what happens _next_, just think of this through Sakura's point of view: if you were about to do what she is with everything that's currently at stake, wouldn't you feel a little more confident after knocking back a couple drinks?

Anyways…

Like I said, in the original version this never happened. Temari just approached Sakura, without warning, and offered her the proposition. That's why I felt I had to tweak this part of the story. Originally, it just didn't make sense. It was too OOC for every character involved, so this is my attempt at making the story a little more believable.

Since this is a brand new scene from this story that has never before graced the screen of your computer, I would absolutely love some feedback (please).

Until next chapter,

Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	5. Where Gaara is Taught a Lesson

Well here we go.

Sorry to have left everyone hanging. This chapter was particularly difficult for me, mostly because it was difficult to keep Sakura and Gaara within character. The more I rewrite this story, there more I'm realizing how much I'm going to have to change to help the story be more believable.

I like Belgium waffles.

In short, chapters are going to start coming more slowly. I'm sorry to disappoint.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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The walk back to the Kazekage tower felt much longer than before, and much slower. Kankuro, who had had the most to drink throughout the night, was forced to rely on Sakura and Temari to help him walk through the streets. Talented ninja though he was, he'd taught Sakura an important lesson about alcohol: every person has their limit, be they an accomplished ninja or not. Years of training in stealth and balance could be quickly lost after one too many drinks. Kankuro had proven that with every stumbled step.

To Sakura's relief, though, it turned out Temari was terrific at holding her liquor. The only thing that might have given her away was the hint of a slur in her speech and a giggle in her voice. Otherwise she walked tall and maintained composer. Sakura figured she could've even taken on another sand nin and held her own very well, if the chance had presented itself. Her pig-tailed friend did an excellent job of leading them safely back towards the Kazekage mansion, despite the fact that all the streets were dark. Sakura couldn't tell one alleyway from another; they all looked alike to her, but Temari remembered every turn.

Sakura herself felt rather shaky and light-headed, but only a portion of that could be attributed to the alcohol. The very idea of what she was going to do when they arrived at the tower left her feeling nervous and dizzy. What if she made a fool of herself? What if she got so nervous that she really couldn't keep her liquor down? What if, because she'd had too much to drink, she performed poorly?

What if he simply rejected her?

Of course, there might've been bigger consequences at stake, but Sakura's inhibitions were currently weakened, her mind-scope contracted. She did not consider that she was tampering in politics. She did not think of how this might affect her mission. She did not reflect on the fact that she might be sent back to Konoha. These things did not concern Sakura right now. Instead she focused on how she would accomplish her deed in the first place: how she would approach Gaara, how she would teach him to relax. She did not take into account how Gaara might react or what he would say afterward. The encouragement Temari and Kankuro had given her, paired with the temporary confidence that always accompanies alcohol, led Sakura to assume that Gaara would willingly submit to this 'lesson' without question and that no major negative outcome might follow. A simple move in, move out procedure.

The mansion was almost completely dark when they arrived. Only a small light peeked from under the door of Gaara's office. Sakura's heart rate increased. He was still working, still awake. Temari led her slowly by the arm in the direction of that light. "He's right through there," she whispered, "All you have to do is go in and show him how to kiss. It's completely between friends, ok?"

Sakura gulped. Friends. Right. Was Gaara her friend? Was she Gaara's friend? _Ah, hell. Does it even matter? He might as well be after this, _she thought. With a final glance back to Temari and Kankuro, Sakura took a deep, shaky breath and headed for the door.

Gaara sat as his desk, reading over a mission report from a chunin he barely knew. He could scarcely decipher the young ninja's careless scrawl. Part of him wanted to simply sign and be done with it, but a stronger part reminded him that this was exactly the kind of tedious, time-consuming work he'd purposely searched for. For hours he'd read report after report, even the seemingly pointless ones written by genin. Hardly ever did they involve anything of import, but he read them thoroughly anyway, be they as short as a paragraph or as long as several pages. Just to keep himself busy. Just to keep his mind off her.

How long had it been, now? Gaara chanced a look at a nearby clock. Temari and Sakura had left around seven; it was nearing midnight now. They had to be coming back soon. That would be the hardest part of his night: hearing them enter and retreat to their rooms. He was curious what had happened at the club they went to, curious as to how Sakura might've acted. He'd only ever known her cordially, only been associated with her through politics or a mission. What did she act like, look like, when she was free to simply be a woman, not a kunoichi?

_I will stay in place…_ he'd decided. He would not allow himself to see Sakura upon her return. He did not want to see what she looked like. He did not want to see what she was wearing. He did not want to see her after she'd been drinking. Alcohol weakened the mind—She might act differently. He knew from years of watching his siblings drink that inebriation affected different people in different ways. Kankuro always became very eccentric: if he was in a good mood, the alcohol made him happier and less cautious. He was prone to making stupid mistakes more often. If his brother was unhappy, however, the alcohol increased his rage. He'd witnessed Kankuro throw nasty insults before that he never would have while sober.

Temari was different. She was what Kankuro had labeled a 'happy drunk'. The usually stoic, composed woman would become giggly and unnecessarily friendly. She smiled broadly and laughed with excessive excitement, acting less like a disciplined warrior and more like a flirtatious teenager.

Gaara wondered what kind of drunk Sakura was. Could she be an eccentric drunk like his brother? Or a happy drunk like Temari? Or could she perhaps be something different? What if she was a sad drunk? Or a careless drunk?

What if she was a romantic drunk?

He'd never witnessed one in action, but Gaara's imagination was all too vivid. If Sakura was, in fact, a romantic drunk, then she might've very easily met another man tonight. She wouldn't have had to try hard to attract one, he was sure. He saw in his mind's eye how her pink eyelashes would flutter seductively and the tinkle of her laugh would be nothing but encouragement. Doubt clouded Gaara's mind and his muscles tensed in anger.

In jealousy.

The report crumpled in his fisted hand.

_Calm…_ he commanded to himself._ Miss Haruno has the freedom to do whatever she chooses on her own free time. It is not my concern unless she becomes involved in some kind of trouble or else her decisions effect our agreement and she fails to complete her mission. Calm down._

Gaara slowly unclenched his hand. He fell slack against his chair in exhaustion.

This was the reason he would remain where he was. He would not allow himself to see her. He would not try to find out her particular rapport with alcohol.

No. To do so could invoke feelings and thoughts that would be disastrous to their functional, though strained, business relationship. Already he had to constantly remind himself that she was _Miss_ _Haruno_. To call her by her first name invited the feeling of familiarity, which Gaara refused to permit himself. He had to stay as distant as possible.

But if she had, in fact, found and seduced another man, Gaara thought he might just kill the bastard.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He could suddenly sense the presence of three approaching figures. They were entering from the direction of the back entrance of the mansion. He gave a sharp intake of breath.

She was back.

There was little to hear; Gaara supposed they were purposely keeping their voices low. He still had his desk light on. They must've known he would still be awake and working.

_Remain seated._

The muscles in his legs tensed, preparing to lift him from his chair.

_Remain seated!_

He forced himself to still. The only movement he allowed himself to make was the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was measured, stable. He closed his eyes.

_Click_.

Gaara's eyes snapped open and his sand instantly flew to his protection. It hovered around his chair, prepared to strike. The knob on the office door was turning slowly, carefully, as though the person turning it was not trying to alert his attention. Too late. Gaara watched the door to his office slide slowly open. The darkness of the room momentarily shielded the intruder from his sight, but he could instantly smell the scent of strawberries.

His sand slithered to the floor and his breathing stilled.

"So do you think it'll work?" Temari whispered as she watched the door close behind Sakura.

Kankuro shrugged and pressed his ear to the wood. "If it does, he'll be a man by morning. If it doesn't, we can send her body and our condolences back to Konoha."

"Hello,"

Sakura had hoped Gaara would say something when she stepped inside, be it an encouraging invitation to enter or a curt demand to leave. Instead, he only stared at her in silence, and her attempt at breaking the quiet seemed to be in vain, as he didn't respond to her greeting. She suddenly felt horribly…sickeningly…

Sober.

_What the hell am I doing?_

Her mind rushed back through the conversation she'd had at the bar. A lesson, Kankuro had said. Between friends, Temari had said. Only chance, her mind had said.

And yet, now that she was here, nothing that had been said seemed like such a good idea.

_Get out. Get out now, before he says something to—_

"Sakura?"

Sakura's mind track was derailed. It was the first time Gaara had ever called her by her first name. Normally he only addressed her officially. Her heart rate steeped, and Inner Sakura floated back to the surface of her mind. _You can't leave now. He's spoken to you._

She gulped. _Do it_. On shaky legs, she stepped forward. _Do it quickly!_

Gaara watched silently as Sakura moved towards him. What was she doing here? He could decipher nothing from her features; she did not look happy, angry, or upset. She walked forward steadily, with a purpose, but she had not announced any trouble outright. If she had come to harm him, his sand would act as a shield as always. Surely, she already knew that.

Gaara simply could not fathom her intentions, but he watched her intently. The closer she drew, the better he could see her in the light. So this is what Haruno Sakura looked as woman instead of a kunoichi… He'd never beheld anyone so alluring. She was wearing a tight red shirt that was certainly not suited for a battle and her eyes looked darker than usual.

He could not look away from her.

Sakura walked around to the side of Gaara's desk. The angle of his chair followed her movements, so that when she stopped just behind the left side of the desk, he was facing her. _Only chance,_ she reminded herself. _Do it. Enjoy it. _Get it over with.

She knelt down below him on one knee and prayed silently that the heat in her cheeks wasn't too visible in the dim light. Gaara remained expressionless and silent, though she thought for a moment she saw a hint of confusion and shock in his eyes. She drank in his magnificence, thinking she would never again be close enough to examine his handsome features so close. He had high cheek bones, a straight nose, and a strong jaw that was dotted with dark red stubble. His dark-ringed eyes were shaded with shags of his almost too-long hair, and she had the urge to brush it back so that she might be able to gaze into the emerald green orbs that were nearly hidden by it. She wanted to trace a finger over the tattoo etched on his forehead, _Love_, while staring into his eyes.

_Quickly now_, her mind whispered._ You're wasting time._ She drew her eyes away from his face and focused on what she was about to say. "Kazekage-sama," she began. Her voice was shaky and quiet. She cleared her throat before continuing. "I, uh, I'm only going to do this once…" She deliberated on what else to say. "This is awkward enough as it is… Please don't…" She hesitated, "Please don't reprimand me later."

Heart beating wildly, stomach churning in apprehension, Sakura closed her eyes and leaned up quickly. She did not see Gaara open his mouth to ask what she was doing; she did not see his eyes grow wide with shock and surprise; she did not hear his intake of breath as her face ascended towards his.

Their lips collided suddenly.

Clumsily.

All too quickly, Sakura realized she was kissing Gaara. It felt to her as though everything previous had been a dream or an illusion. Not now. Her mouth was now connected with Gaara's mouth, and there was no turning back. _You did it! You're kissing him!_ Inner Sakura squealed. No, not kissing. Not yet. Neither of their lips were moving. Gaara's lips were warm and soft, but they were motionless. _Focus, Sakura_. She scrunched her eyes. _This is a lesson, so give him his money's worth. _She didn't reflect on the fact that she wasn't actually getting paid for her services. Gently she let her hands drift upward to rest on that strong jaw she'd previously been admiring. She drew back slightly, just until their lips were barely touching, and then went back down, this time with more confidence and steadier movements. Sakura went slowly, taking a bit of time to think back on her own kissing experiences.

For years she'd pined after Sasuke, but when it became clear there was no hope, she'd moved on. It was tough to integrate herself into the dating system that all her friends had already embraced, and thanks to Tsunade she'd never truly been in a relationship, but Sakura _had_ had her share of kisses. There were sweet kisses that took place in the areas of the forehead, cheek, and corner of the mouth. There were lead-in kisses that were just encouraging enough to suggest a deeper kiss was desired. Hard kisses usually followed a lead-in kiss and involved near-bruising force that left the lips puffy but the mood unmistakably sexual. The follow-up kiss to a hard kiss encompassed the use of one tongue or both, usually in the metaphorical form of an oral sword-fight. Other kisses that involved the tongue were usually sensual ones, a cross between a sweet kiss and a hard kiss, deep enough to affect the kissers emotionally but not so forceful that their lips were left tender and sore.

And of course there were the not-so-popular bad kisses whose unpleasant reputation for excessive presence of tongue, teeth, or saliva would always go down in infamy.

But Sakura had enough experience that she didn't worry too much about that last category. Instead she deliberated on what kind of kiss she should give Gaara. On the one hand, she couldn't put too much of herself into the kiss, or it would cease to be a lesson and fall into the dangerous void of her own self indulgence. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't very well teach someone how to kiss with their emotions detached. One day, according to Temari and Kankuro, Gaara might use this knowledge for a woman he cared for. She might not exactly fall head over heals if he remained mentally disconnected while kissing her.

Jealousy twisted in Sakura's stomach. She didn't want to think of him kissing anyone else. _Right now,_ Inner Sakura purred wickedly, _He's mine. _

She focused on kissing him gently, with no real distinction on what kind of kiss it might be. He didn't seem to be moving his lips at all, so Sakura used the liberty to her advantage. She kissed his bottom lip softly then moved to his top lip. She tilted her head slightly to the right for better access and continued. It wasn't a bad kiss by any means. She had feared earlier that drinking might've diminished her ability to remain steady and in control, but luckily it didn't. Aside from Gaara's apparent lack of participation, Sakura was actually enjoying herself…_None of that, now,_ she cautioned internally, _You can't afford to get romantic._

Gaara, by this point, was practically catatonic.

He gazed wide-eyed and motionless at the face currently attached to his. Sakura. The girl that haunted his thoughts nearly every moment of every day was… kissing him. He could feel her lips moving against his, feel the pressure of her hands urging him to tilt his head into the kiss.

His thoughts were a blur as they raced in time with his elevated heart rate. When had this happened? How did this happen? He couldn't even remember anything before Sakura's lips were against his. His eyes could no longer focus on her face because of their proximity, but he could taste the strawberry on her lips and smell the alcohol that wafted around her. Yet nothing clicked. These facts, though related, could not make sense in his jumbled mind. It was as if the moment their lips connected a shock wave was sent through his body, disconnecting any nerve endings and other neural processes. His limbs felt numb, petrified, as though he would not have been able to move them even if he had wanted to. All he could feel was the gentle press of her face against his, the touch of her tender fingertips along his jaw, and the erratic beating of his own heart in his chest.

Suddenly Sakura stilled, and his mind raced back to real time. She pulled away slightly, enough so his eyes could readjust and focus on her. When she opened her own eyes, she jolted back in surprise, as though she had forgotten who she was kissing and was shocked to find Gaara there in front of her. "Oh, um…"

Sakura brought her hands away from his face. She had not expected to see Gaara's eyes wide open when she pulled away. Had his eyes been open the entire time?

Awkward…

But she had bigger things to worry about besides Gaara's apparent misunderstanding of proper kissing etiquette. He still had not said anything since first acknowledging her entrance. Was he simply too stunned to speak? Was he so furious that he could not express his anger in words?

_Maybe you're just __**that**__ good,_ a slightly smug Inner Sakura suggested, _It was such a good kiss he's speechless!_

_No, _a more coherent part of her mind countered._ I think he's in shock…_

Sakura's medic-nin training kicked in and she instantly became serious. "Kazekage-sama?" she asked in a curt, urgent tone, "Kazekage-sama? Can you hear me?"

He suddenly jolted and stood up, frightening Sakura so much that she fell over backwards. Her reflexes countered the pull of gravity, and she was on her feet a moment later, instinctively pulling into a defensive position. Her heart was racing while her brain tried to keep up. The hazy drawbacks of the alcohol returned.

She took slow, deep breaths to steady herself. "Kazekage-sama," she said again, this time more quietly. "Are you alright?"

Gaara looked at her as though suddenly remembering she was there in the room. He turned away.

"Yes."

Sakura sighed in relief and relaxed her position. "Good," she said. She watched him sit back down in his chair. He no longer looked at her; in fact, he made a point of keeping his back turned to her. Sakura chewed on her lip._ Fix this! _her mind screamed, _You need to make him understand!_

She crossed slowly back to the front of his desk. Again, he refused to look at her. "Um," She swallowed down the fear now encroaching within her. Surely he was angry with her, enraged at what she had done. She needed to make him see that the kiss they'd shared was innocent, just between friends, as Temari had said.

But as Sakura gazed at the back of his turned head, she felt the saddening truth solidify in the pit of her stomach. This man was not her friend. He had never been her friend in the past, and he certainly was not now. Enemy, yes. Acquaintance, yes. Political affiliate, superior, boss—Yes, yes, and yes.

Friend—not in the slightest.

_Remain calm,_ her mind ordered. But she could already feel her pulse quickening, the shameful heat rising to her cheeks. Her eyes stung in mortification. _Do not cry. _She swallowed again. _Not here, not now._

Be professional. She locked her jaw and looked straight ahead. "Well that'll be all tonight, I think," she found herself saying in what Naruto had once teasingly labeled her 'sensei-voice'. "Just remember to relax and remain confident. When the time comes—" She paused to swallow her shame. "When the time comes, I'm sure she'll be a lucky woman."

_Seriously? You couldn't think of anything better to say than that?_ It was the most encouraging words Sakura could think of to say under the circumstances. For all the humiliating thoughts now blazing through her mind, she had to remind herself that this whole ordeal had been a lesson for him. For Gaara. She needed to accept this fact for what it was, the cold, hard truth, and move on. The quickest and most painless way of doing so was to embrace the teacher within herself. To effectively instruct someone to do a specific action, the teacher had to be firm, but encouraging. If Gaara was to actually learn from this experience, it would do him no good unless he had encouraging words to fall back on.

At least, that's what Sakura told herself.

Gaara inclined his head in her direction but still said nothing. She had to focus all her self discipline on not exposing her shame. Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it so forcefully that she could taste the metallic tang of her own blood. When he still remained silent, Sakura finally surrendered. She offered him a shallow, shaky bow before turning on her heel and heading back towards the door.

As her hand reached for the knob of the door, she said quietly, "Good night, Kazekage-sama." She could not conceal the broken ache in her voice, and she bit her lip again, disgusted at how weak she sounded. But there was nothing she could do now. _Just leave,_ her wounded pride whimpered._ Get out of here before you lose it…_

"Gaara,"

It felt strange to hear his name uttered through his own lips, but it had stopped Sakura from leaving, and that was all that mattered. She stood frozen at the door, refusing to look at him. Of all the things running through his frenzied mind, he had not expected his own name to be the first words he would say to her, but Gaara could no longer stomach the formal titles. Sakura had…

Sakura had kissed him.

And then she'd become detached once again, as though she'd been acting out orders. He couldn't make sense of it now, but he knew their relationship had changed. He'd been trying so hard to distance himself from her, going to extra lengths to avoid the torment she brought upon him, and here she'd come, without warning, and…

He sighed. He couldn't push her away. Not anymore.

When she'd first entered his office, she'd looked hesitant and confused.

_She had a reason for coming here,_ he thought. She had a reason for continuing forward even though she'd hesitated. What had urged her onward?

_I called her._

By her first name. Subconsciously. After purposely forcing himself to remain isolated from her, he'd addressed her as "Sakura". It was accidental, unintentional, and yet it felt… Natural. She had looked worried, perhaps nervous, and his mind had responded in concern. Concern for _her_. At that moment she had ceased to simply be 'Miss Haruno'. The instant his protective instincts kicked in, she'd finally become Sakura.

His subconscious accepted Sakura as familiar, despite the fact that he had tried to avoid such feelings. Now they had shared a—he gulped. A kiss. This changed everything. It could not be ignored, at least not in his mind.

He could not, would not, suffice to be the Kazekage to her. No more.

"Call me Gaara."

He grimaced at how it sounded like a demand, not a request, but he prayed that his meaning was still understood. Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him. He could barely see her face for the too dim light of the room, but he saw the silhouette of her head gently dip.

"Good night… Gaara."

Sakura took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Temari and Kankuro sat in the darkened lobby area, effectively failing at appearing nonchalant. Temari was picking at her finger nails, while Kankuro sat in a cushioned chair, reading a newspaper upside-down. When they saw her, they both looked up in practiced surprise.

"Sakura-chan!" Temari said excitedly. But Sakura ignored her. She shoved past both of them, striding determinedly towards the sleeping quarters. Thankfully, neither of them attempted to follow her. They simply watched her disappear down the hallway.

Her room was cool and dark when she finally managed to lock herself inside it. A broken sob echoed through the darkness around her, and she clutched herself in anger at how upset she was. "Stop it," she ground out, as though commanding herself out loud would halt the onslaught of emotion now churning tumultuously inside her. Her sharp little nails dug into the flesh of her forearms. "Stop it!" she commanded again.

"_Stop crying," Tsunade warned while towering over her crumpled body. Sakura whimpered and cradled her shattered hand. Too much force behind her punch; not enough chakra pinpointed at the point of impact. The fourth time that day. It felt like self-inflicted torture to repeatedly break her own bones then have Tsunade heal them again, only to have them broken again. Each time she failed, her sensei repaired the splintered bones and severed muscles, but Sakura's arm was bruised and battered beyond recognition. She wanted to cry out for the pain lancing up her arm and into her shoulder. It hurt so badly._

"_Stand up."_

_Sakura grit her teeth and shakily obeyed. Tsunade grabbed her bloodied wrist, and the young girl nearly crumpled to the ground again in pain. Tsunade expelled a sigh and held her hand over the injury, letting carefully-measured amounts of chakra seep into her apprentice's injury. Sakura could feel the warmth of the energy flowing into her arm, and she winced as she felt the bones snap back into place. While Tsunade continued, she said calmly, "Why are you crying, Sakura?"_

_A redundant question, but Sakura bit her lip and answered anyways: "Because it hurts, sensei."_

"_And how do you think an enemy would react if they saw you were crying during the midst of a battle?"_

_Sakura's cheeks blazed pink from exhaustion, pain, and shame. "They would use it to their advantage, sensei." She winced again as her pinky finger relocated. "They would think I was weak."_

"_Are you weak?" Tsunade finished quickly and dropped Sakura's arm. The younger girl gulped back another wave of tears. Would she always have to overcome the same barrier? Would she always be the weakest one?_

_Sakura looked up at her master and ground her teeth. "No."_

_Tsunade nodded approvingly. "Then prove it. Prove it to yourself." Sakura turned back to the brick wall, and Tsunade whispered, "Do not let them break you, Sakura. You are strong."_

_Sakura clenched her aching fist. She calculated. She concentrated. She drew back. Leapt forward._

_The wall crumpled._

Sakura exhaled wearily. Tears no longer threatened to spill over her cheeks, but she still felt empty and cold. The memory was a painful one, but it reminded her once again of her place in this world. _You can't take back what you've done_, her mind whispered. _You kissed the Kazekage._ There was no ignoring or forgetting what she'd done. She would have to live with it and not let it upset her. _Do not be weak,_ she gulped. _Do not let this affect you._

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Phew!

Crazy stuff, huh? I hope no one was too OOC.

Just so everyone knows, this is not the end of this scene. It just felt like an appropriate end to the chapter. The next chapter will follow Gaara's train of thought, so hopefully I'll have it posted soon.

R&R Please.

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	6. Where Gaara Has a Solemn Realization

Aha! Hello everyone.

I apologize for the delay. I hit a bit of a writer's block after the last chapter. Even now when I read over it, I'm still not completely satisfied with how it played out, but I've decided to just let it be. After a nice week-long break, I was able to pick the story back up again and finish at least one more chapter.

Again, it's becoming more and more apparent how different the old and revamped versions are. I feel like I'm writing a completely new story. I have to, it seems, to keep the characters honest and, well, in character. Even this chapter was difficult for me. Perhaps you'll see what I mean after you read it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! Please review to let me know what you think.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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The seconds ticked by quietly. Gaara stared blankly at the now closed door of his office, seeing and hearing nothing but the incoherent flashes now running through his mind.

_What—_

_Just happened?_

Gaara racked his brain for anything, any miniscule detail that might explain what had just occurred in his office. He must've missed something: something she said or did, or something someone else said or did… It had to be something! It just… didn't make sense.

Of everything that had played out only moments ago, there was only one thing that made any sense to him, that felt right to him. Sakura had addressed him by his first name, and he had done the same for her. It had felt comfortable and natural, even while interspersed amongst all the other confusion he felt. He did not understand why Sakura had come to him tonight. He could find no rhyme or reason for the things she said to him or for the ways in which she reacted. But to hear his name whisper through her lips… it was nearly overwhelming. So strong was the feeling of relief and familiarity at finally embracing the sound of her voice. For a while Gaara simply sat and reveled in that feeling. It was only after he allowed his gaze to drop back down to the surface of his desk that the confusion began churning once again.

What was Sakura's purpose for coming to him? Why? Why did she kiss him? Why did she say things to him that didn't make sense? Her actions and her words made no connection in his mind. He felt as though he was missing a very large, integral clue to her motives. He felt on edge with confusion. When a knock sounded at his door only moments later, his heart nearly shot out of his chest. He eyed the door cautiously. Was it Sakura? Was she back?

"Gaara?"

He took a deep breath and let it out quickly. It was Temari's voice.

The door opened slowly and two spiky pigtails emerged, soon followed by the darkened face of his sister. "Gaara?" she asked again, "You alright?"

When he did not answer her, she entered the office fully. Kankuro was right behind her. "What are you two doing here?" he asked gruffly. _Of course they would be here,_ he thought belatedly, _Sakura was with them tonight._

A beat passed in which Gaara came upon a revelation: Sakura had been with Temari and Kankuro all night! Surely they knew what was going on. He shot a shrewd glance at his siblings. They probably even played a part in it…

Without a moment of pause, he stood up and laid the palms of his hands flat on his desk. His sand slithered evenly along the floor and around his feet in readiness for the interrogation. He would not hesitate to use it if necessary. "What," he asked slowly, "Is going on?"

Temari and Kankuro shifted uneasily. Oh yes, Gaara could tell they had both been drinking with Sakura. Just as before, he could smell the alcohol wafting around the room. Neither sibling said anything, and Gaara tried again, this time advancing his sand closer towards them. They both eyed it cautiously. "Go on. Explain yourselves." he encouraged darkly, "That's an order."

Gaara saw the expressions on their faces, even in the dim light, become very serious. They had not anticipated for him to play the Kage-card. Kankuro moved closer to Temari and placed one hand on her shoulder. "Gaara," he said warily, "There's no need for this. We'll tell you what we know, but in exchange we need some questions of our own answered. Will you consider that?"

Gaara straightened his back, extending himself to his full height of six feet, two inches. He knew Kankuro was playing it safe, asking politely and cautiously for a negotiation. But what did he possibly owe the two of them? He was the one who'd been submitted to such a confusing, awkward dilemma. But perhaps, if he agreed to the terms, it would save him the trouble of forcefully interrogating them. Angry, suspicious, and annoyed as he was, Gaara still did not want to hurt his brother and sister. He relented with a single nod.

Temari's sigh of relief was embarrassingly audible in the quietness of the room. She stepped forward toward the desk as her youngest brother towered over her. She glanced up and gave him a gentle sort of grin. "You like Sakura, don't you?"

Gaara turned his glare fully on Kankuro. It seemed his suspicions of his brother's unreliability were correct. But Temari's voice drew his attention back to her. She said, "You do, don't you? We haven't told anyone—"

"Bullshit!" he spat. Normally, he would not have reacted in such a harsh manner, but Gaara felt betrayed and embarrassed. Kankuro had promised not to tell anyone how he felt about Sakura—Gaara felt it was humiliating enough for even _him_ to know. Temari recoiled, but her hurt expression quickly turned stony. Gaara growled in shame and turned away. He hated to lose his temper with his sister. She and Kankuro were perhaps the most loyal companions he had.

Temari ignored his outburst and continued defensively, "We didn't tell her, Gaara. Sakura doesn't know."

At this, the youngest brother turned back to face them. "Why did she come here, then?" he asked defiantly. "Why did she say the things she did? Why did she—" He did not want to continue. He was acting childish. Where had the Kazekage gone? Where had his common sense, his calculated, contemplative personality gone to?

Temari's expression softened. She reached out a hand to touch him on his arm. He did not pull away, but instead embraced the comforting pressure of her touch. "She kissed you, didn't she?" she asked quietly.

Gaara felt his jaw become rigid and his expression hard. They had known all along. He felt as though his privacy had been invaded. To find out that others knew about what had happened between he and Sakura was rattling. It had affected him deeply, emotionally, and here he could not even keep it to himself. It felt shameful to feel so exposed.

Kankuro took Gaara's silence as an affirmation, and he stepped forward with a grin. "Yeah!" He laughed and threw his hands in the air in triumph. "She came, she kissed, she conquered!"

Temari was smiling herself, but shared a look with Kankuro that silenced him. Gaara sat back down in his chair and said nothing to either of them. They had known everything; it had all been planned. But why had Sakura agreed to it? Why had she asked him specifically not to reprimand her? Why had she mentioned that he should be confident and stay relaxed?

He growled and turned his back to his siblings. "Why did she do it if you claim she didn't know?" he asked quietly.

Temari inhaled deeply and replied with hesitance. "It was supposed to be a lesson," she whispered, "She didn't tell you that?"

Gaara felt anger rumbling within him. That was it; that was the clue he'd been missing earlier. "A lesson?" he growled, "She show me how to kiss? To expose my derisory abilities?" His sand was twitching beneath him. The truth they had confessed insulted him as both a leader and as a man. He absolutely detested the feeling of failure or inability. He felt he wanted to strangle something—anything in anger.

"No, man," Kankuro said quickly. He stepped forward defensively, preparing as best he could for the strike he felt was sure to come. Temari, too, was also prepared. Gaara could sense the building of their chakras, inebriated though he knew they were. "Listen, Gaara," his brother continued, "The idea of a lesson was only an excuse. Sakura wouldn't have done it if she hadn't wanted to."

At this, Gaara stilled. He thought it might've been a bit of an exaggeration, but the idea calmed him nonetheless. It was true; surely if Sakura had truly disliked him, she would not have submitted to the idea of a kissing lesson, even if she had been drinking. And at the very least, Gaara now understood her earlier comments: she'd simply been giving him instructions as though he was her pupil. Gaara felt extremely ignorant in that moment and he sat in silence and shame for several seconds.

As the time ticked by and Gaara said nothing in response, Temari took the opportunity to proceed with the negotiations. "Why was she upset when she left?" she asked carefully.

Gaara inclined his head towards her but did not answer immediately. The memories of what happened before and after the kiss were still not completely clear in Gaara's mind. He knew he hadn't really spoken to Sakura, except to tell her to call him by his first name. At the time his thought processes had still been too jumbled to function coherently.

"I suppose," he said as he slowly considered the question, "She was embarrassed." He nodded thoughtfully. Yes, that must've been it. While she kissed him, he had been too shocked to engage, and afterwards he had acted brusquely. She must've been hurt by his reaction to her. He'd avoided eye contact and barely acknowledged what she'd done at all. Naturally she must've assumed he was angry with her. She'd recoiled in shame and tried as best she could to escape quickly.

Gaara sighed wearily and rubbed the stubble on his chin. The more he thought about it, the worse it made him feel. The kiss they'd shared was… practically nothing. But it hadn't been _completely_ void of feeling, right? Otherwise what reason would Sakura have to be so upset? A whole new wave of disgrace washed over him. He'd hurt her tonight. Unintentionally, yes, but the deed was done all the same.

Temari relaxed her defensive stance and walked slowly around the desk. She knelt down beside Gaara's chair, remaining mindful of the now motionless sand scattered about his feet. "Don't worry about it, ok?" she said softly. "You got the chance to kiss the girl you like, right? And remember, she wouldn't have done it if she didn't want to."

Gaara knew her words were meant in comfort, but they did little to penetrate the solid mass of guilt and chagrin in the pit of his stomach. Kankuro and Temari had no way of knowing what had really happened. They didn't know how awfully he'd treated her, how he hadn't even participated in the 'lesson'. There was no escaping what had happened between them.

Gaara looked down at Temari and then slowly over to Kankuro. They meant well, he knew. On the one hand, he was angry that he'd been tricked and betrayed, yet on the other, he knew they'd played an important part in tonight's events. Temari was right: he'd had a chance to finally indulge in the one woman he'd been trying to deny himself. The fact that that chance was now lost was his fault, not theirs.

He felt a horrible ache in his chest, but he forced himself to harden against it. He locked his jaw, tensed his expression, and stood slowly. Temari jolted backward as his sand retreated back into its place of residence. With a formal nod to both of them, he retrieved his gourd and swung it on his back. "This discussion is over and will not be spoken of again." He spoke roughly. "Is that understood?"

Temari opened her mouth to protest, but Kankuro placed a hand on her arm to quiet her. Solemnly, he nodded. "Yes, Kazekage-sama."

Gaara swallowed thickly, sickened with himself in every possible way. "I'm going to clear my head," he gruffed belatedly. Without looking at them, he said quietly, "You two… thanks."

The sand swept him away with nothing but a hush of wind.

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There. You see? Does no one agree that it's just downright difficult to express Gaara's emotions? Who really understands the inner turmoil of the Kazekage? Better yet, who thinks they can honestly express that turmoil adequately in words without making Gaara sound like a whiny teenager?

Forgive me. I'm just very paranoid of erroneously portraying a character.

Regardless, I always love reviews, especially critical ones. Have at it!

Thank you all for reading my story,

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	7. Where Sakura is Quite Confused

If I may, I would like to impart some knowledge upon my reviewers:

The technical definition of a 'criticism', in other words a 'critical review', is "the act or art of analyzing and evaluating or judging the quality of a literary or artistic work."

Now, those of you who actually read my author's notes know that I always request reviews, critical reviews in particular. I love criticism, because it's one of many ways to better my skills as a writer.

"_Wow, this update sucked."_ Is not an acceptable criticism.

What am I expected to learn from a review like that? How am I supposed to write a "better" chapter if I'm not even told what part of my story was undesirable? Frankly, it did nothing but discourage me from continuing this story.

Of course, for most of my reviewers, this does not apply, and I apologize to all of you who understand the depth of the story and thank those of you who have given me valuable critiques. In any case, I've written a particularly long chapter to make up for the last one.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. But I do own a dictionary.

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The sun rose proudly that day in Suna. The air was warm, the breeze was soft, and Sakura Haruno lay peacefully entangled within the sheets of her bed.

With a hangover.

"Errrm…Fuuuck."

The pink-haired kunoichi rolled slowly over, shielding her eyes from the brutal daylight now streaming through the window of her room. The air was too thick and her clothes felt tight and constricting, as though they were trying to strangle her from the middle down. She stumbled into the tiny bathroom without even bothering to turn on the lights and flipped the shower onto a low setting. A low grumble in the pit of her stomach made her grimace in discomfort.

"Shower first," she scratchily commanded to herself. The cool water would help to clear her head and rinse away the grimy feeling that was prickling all over her skin. Until then, she refused to look in a mirror or even attempt to find any food. Even if everyone in the Kage mansion had to witness her hangover firsthand, she could at least look a little presentable about it.

Sakura peeled off the too-tight clothing she'd mistakenly slept in. It seemed she'd fallen asleep in Temari's shirt and her skin-tight mission pants—not the most desirable sleepwear when stationed in Suna. They did not have the breathable ability of her pajamas, and as the morning heated up the moisture in the air had clung to her skin as though magnetic. She stepped carefully into the shower, feeling the momentary shock of the cold water on her body.

Goosebumps dotted her skin all over, but the water was refreshing. Sakura sighed and leaned her back against the tile, allowing the droplets to dance over her front and on her face. She closed her eyes and tried to align the rhythm pounding in her head to the _slap-slap-slap_ of the shower water.

Oh, what she wouldn't give to rewind the last twelve-or-so hours and erase all that had happened. This hangover might've have been less insurmountable were it not coupled with guilt and shame. The shower could wash away the grime, some food could alleviate the grumble in her stomach, and some medicine could ease the pain in her head, but nothing could make her forget what she'd done. _This could be my last day here,_ she thought sadly, _He'll probably send me straight back to Konoha._

He. Gaara. She swallowed thickly as a familiar sting seeped behind her eyelids. The memories were hazy, but still decipherable. She'd gone drinking with Temari and Kankuro, and they'd told her how he'd never been kissed. So she'd kissed him, and then what? He'd been angry—detached. He didn't even say anything her…

_Yes, he did. He told me to call him Gaara._

Sakura remembered this detail suddenly, and she straightened herself to a stand. How confusing. Why would he make such a demand amidst what had happened between them? Sakura hugged herself to counter chills that had little to do with the cool water. The formality had been breached—by both parties.

"Yes," she whispered, "Yes, Yes! He called me by my first name too!"

The memory was nearly as startling as her first realization. But it still didn't make any sense. Her memories were still clouded. _He was angry, wasn't he? He stood up. He wouldn't look at me._

_Maybe it wasn't anger,_ Inner Sakura suggested, _What if was just shock? Confusion._

Confusion? How could there have possibly been any confusion? She'd stated her objectives clearly last night…

Hadn't she?

_Oh God._ One of her hands slid up to cover her mouth. That was it. She hadn't told him—there was no way he could've known—she must've forgotten—

_I didn't tell him it was a lesson!_

Sakura suddenly felt very sick. She slipped slowly down to a sitting position in the shower and let the water rain over her. How could she have forgotten such a thing? She knew she'd said things that were related to a 'lesson', but without clarification of the situation, it probably just sounded like she was spouting some kind of inane babble. No doubt, to Gaara, it just seemed that she'd entered at some ungodly hour of the night, kissed him without any explanation, and then left an emotional wreck for absolutely no clear reason.

_What have I done?_

She sat still for a moment while the legion of chaotic thoughts tumbled over themselves in her aching head. She needed to fix this, clean up her mess. "I have to talk to him," she said to herself, but it did not provide her with any of the courage she was longing for. Finally she bit her lip and shakily stood. She washed and rinsed her hair quickly, and she turned off the shower.

There was no turning back—she had to do this. It was her own lack of responsibility that had gotten her into this mess, and now she had to suffer the consequences. She garbed herself with a clean work-tunic and replaced all her kunai, shuriken, and bandages where they belonged. If this was going to be her final conversation with the Kazekage, then she was at least going to look professional.

When she was finally done dressing, Sakura at last glanced in the mirror. She grimaced. Her eyes were red and a bit swollen from her crying spell the night before, and they hung down baggily. Her complexion was paler than normal, and the wet, pink locks dangling around her face looked less like soft, feminine hair and more like stringy entrails. She sighed and gave into her own vanity. She applied some makeup around her eyes to diminish the redness and tousled her hair with a towel as best she could so that it would begin to form its natural, voluminous shape.

She sighed with dread. No more stalling. She popped a couple of pain-killers on her way out and strode determinedly down the corridor. She would have to tell Gaara straight, tell him the exact truth. It would be embarrassing, shameful, humiliating—but it was her duty. She decided to practice in her head to map out what she would say:

_Gaara-san, I—_

Sakura stopped. No. He wasn't Gaara. He was the Kazekage. Despite what he may or may not have said the night before, she would not allow herself such endearments. He was her superior, and she was going to humble herself accordingly.

_Kazekage-sama, I must request a moment of your time. I need to speak with you about last night…_

She passed by the mansion's kitchen and caught a glimpse of a very ragged-looking Kankuro. His appearance bore the same tell-tale gruffness of a hangover that hers had, and he was sipping on a large mug of black coffee. He gave her an acknowledging nod which she did not return. Kankuro and Temari could not be fully blamed for what had happened, but they _had_ played a part in convincing her. Until she got everything sorted and settled, she did not want to speak with either of them. This was her fault, and she wanted to deal with it herself.

Sakura kept moving forward until she reached the lobby area. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Only hours ago she and her two cohorts had stumbled into the darkness of this room, and then she had continued on alone to commit possibly one of the worst decisions of her career. Now the room was light and open again. It seemed so contradictory to the dark feelings of guilt inside her.

Mitaya, who was sitting dutifully at her desk, glanced up at Sakura's entrance and smiled. "Ah, good morning, Sakura-san," she called.

Sakura shifted her attention to the kind, old woman and gave a weak smile back. "Good morning, Mitaya."

"Oh, it's just a beautiful day out, isn't it? Especially after that terrible storm last night."

Sakura's smile faded. "There was a storm last night?" She hadn't even noticed.

"Oh yes, a most terrible sandstorm. They happen every so often, but this one was very close to the city. But it cleared up rather quickly this morning." Mitaya shifted some papers on her desk and then looked back up at Sakura. "Are you alright, dear?"

Sakura's smile was definitely gone now. This chit-chat was getting her nowhere fast. She needed to speak to Gaara quickly. She needed to get it over with. With a deep breath, she walked forward slowly. "Mitaya," she said faintly, "Could you please tell the Kazekage that I need to speak with him?"

The kindly woman tilted her head in concern. "I'm sorry, Sakura-san. The Kazekage is away from his office right now."

The blood in Sakura's cheeks drained and she glanced over to the closed wooden doors. "Away?" she asked quickly, "Where is he?"

"When I arrived this morning, it appeared he'd been out training. That's where he is now, I believe. Temari-san went with him, so that he would not be alone."

Sakura visibly slumped. How would she talk to him now? Would he be at the training fields? Could she speak to him there? How would she speak to him alone in a place like that? _I need to resolve this as soon as possible._

She nodded and thanked Mitaya for her help, and then strode towards the outside. If she hurried, perhaps she could still catch him before he left. There was no telling where he would go afterwards or when he would return to the mansion. It was an illusion to believe that a Kage would remain in his or her office indefinitely. The fact that Gaara had been so tied down in his own was not altogether usual. Sakura knew firsthand that Tsunade made regular trips around the village. She often went to meetings with the village elders and made visits to the hospital. She was, after all, the greatest medic nin Konoha had ever seen, and so she would often check up on the well-being and necessities of the medics and patients there. Sakura did not know what type of errands a Kazekage would have to tend to, but there was no doubt in her mind that such errands did, in fact, exist.

Also, it seemed Temari would be present as well, and while Sakura had not planned on requesting aid from either Kankuro or his sister, the fact that she might vouch for Sakura was a little encouraging. Certainly with the both of them together, they could convince Gaara that the whole thing was a simple misunderstanding.

With this in mind, Sakura tried to retrace her steps from the day before to find the training grounds. When she arrived, however, she felt confused. It did not look as it had before, and it took a moment of consideration before Sakura realized what had happened. The sand dunes on the fields where taller and had shifted position. She could no longer distinguish the separate fields, for they all looked like a flowing, golden ocean of sand. _It must've been the storm_, she thought,_ it really was close to the city_. So close, in fact, that it had buried the training grounds. There were no ninja scattered about at all; the grounds were deserted.

_Then where is he?_ she wondered. Sakura wandered along aimlessly. If Gaara was not here, and he was not at the Kazekage tower, then she had no clue as to his whereabouts. She did not know the layout of Sunagakure well enough to simply go searching for him in random areas. _I might as well just go back,_ she thought sourly. She hated the thought of letting this misunderstanding go without repair for too long. If she didn't find Gaara and explain to him the truth, then her mistake would be left to ferment in his mind, and he would send her back to Konoha for insubordination or some other such crime. Sakura was just sure of it; she could feel it in her gut.

_Maybe it's better if you just don't talk to him,_ Inner Sakura offered. _It's not like it was a bad kiss, right? What reason would he have to want you to leave? Maybe you should just continue on with your mission. Just pretend as though this never happened._

She frowned sadly. _But… I don't want to pretend like it never happened…_

She'd wanted that kiss. Badly. She'd been fantasizing about the handsome Kazekage since she'd first seen him in his office two weeks ago. He was an ass, yes, and there were times when Inner Sakura wanted to strangle him, but he was inexplicably alluring. If she had truly not wanted to kiss him, then her moral compass would have steered her away from the very idea. On a subconscious level, she'd cared more for that one moment of physical contact than she had about anything else: her village, her mission, her devotion to her students. Even her stubborn dedication to the bet they'd made.

That was the pinpoint of the shame she now felt. How could she have been so weak as to give in to a small, guilty pleasure like that with so much at stake? And the worst part was: she still didn't regret the kiss itself. She couldn't blame it on the alcohol—Drinking had only given her the confidence to go through with it. And she already knew she couldn't blame it on Temari or Kankuro either. Where would she be if she hadn't given in to their requests?

Exactly where she had been before.

"Hey! Watch out!"

Sakura turned quickly. The voice was barely audible on the wind—

_The wind._

She hadn't even noticed how quickly it had picked up. She hurriedly turned and raced back up a sand dune towards the edge of the city. She pulled the edge of her tunic up over her nose and mouth and squinted into the distance. There was a small group of people nearly three fields down. She was amazed that she could hear a warning from so far away. There no more than maybe ten people, but one was set apart from the others. He stood ahead of the rest of them with his arms outstretched and his distinctive, triangular hat angled downwards. Sakura gasped.

_Gaara!_

She squatted at the top of the dune and watched him. The wind began to rip through the alleyways behind her, and she shielded her eyes with her hand. Sand began to collect in the gusts. Sakura watched in awe as the wind howled and entire dunes began to topple. A great wall of sand was forming, growing, moving outward, pushing away from the city. The sand in the fields was depleting, becoming steadily shallower as the wall swept through them. It drove onward, stretching higher and wider. The wind was pushing with near brutal force, and Sakura had to extend her legs into the slowly sinking dune to stop herself from skidding downwards. Just as the force of the wind began to bring tears to her eyes, it slowed to a hush. The wall, now hundreds of yards from the grounds, collapsed into a massive, but stationary cloud. Sakura coughed and tried to stand, but the dune was now too weak below her. She slipped back into a sitting position and remained there, trying to shake off the sand all over her.

"Sakura! Are you alright?" a voice called. Sakura glanced over to see Temari running towards her. She held up a hand, but her throat suddenly felt parched and she coughed instead of speaking. The sand-kunoichi finally reached her, and she helped pull her up and out of the sand. "Here, take it."

Sakura took the canister Temari offered her and drank a large, grateful swig to wash the sand out of her throat. She coughed again and swallowed. "Thanks."

Temari removed the cloth mask that had previously covered her own face. She nodded caringly, but Sakura could tell that she, too, had a sour mood left over from her hangover. From what Mitaya had said, it seemed like her pigtailed-friend had been up and about for many more hours than she had, and Temari's exhaustion was all too apparent on her tired features and the annoyance in her voice. "What are you doing out here?" she asked sternly.

Sakura grunted and a stood up straight to face her friend. "I came," she said scratchily, "To talk to the Kazekage."

Temari's eyes widened and she bit her lip. "He's busy," she said quickly, "There was a storm last night, so he came to clear out the training grounds."

_Yes, the storm,_ Sakura thought. Though she felt like she'd seen a storm just now. Gaara had just created one, it seemed, to counter the one from last night. It was so very odd. She could remember no one mentioning an oncoming storm yesterday. She couldn't even remember a particularly strong breeze blowing by, and they'd been out drinking pretty late. These thoughts swirled in her mind as she gazed out over the sand cloud that had begun to settle. Mitaya had mentioned that Gaara was out training. Could it be, if he was powerful enough to reverse a storm, that Gaara could've been the one to create the first one?

Temari's critical tone drew Sakura from her musings as she said, "No one was supposed to be out here. It was too dangerous."

Sakura felt a bit taken aback by Temari's sudden harsh attitude, so she tried to lighten the mood herself. "I'm a tough girl," she said with a smirk. She let her gaze wander over the now again visible training grounds and added, "He did that, huh? It was amazing."

Temari finally cracked a small grin and folded her arms, "Teh, yeah. Well, it's not like he was named Kazekage for nothing."

Sakura thought about that for a while. It was very true. Gaara was extremely powerful, both physically and mentally. He'd proven that several times over. He was one of the most powerful Shinobi she had ever met, and was on par with Naruto in the sense that they'd both had to battle against inner demons all their lives. True, the Shukaku that had been trapped inside Gaara was now relinquished, but she knew he must've struggled to recreate himself as a human being. Very few people got a second chance at life, and Gaara had not wasted his. To have accomplished so much, in so little time, with so much pain and shame hanging over his head was an admirable feat in and of itself.

Sakura sighed and turned to look back at Temari, but someone else caught her eye. There he was, striding proudly in their direction: Subaku no Gaara. Sakura stilled. Dread began churning in her stomach. She tried to lock gaze with Temari, but it felt almost as if the woman was ignoring her silent pleas for help. All too quickly, Sakura felt like running away. She wasn't prepared. She'd never finished practicing what she wanted to say to him. _Oh no! What do I do?_

Gaara drew ever closer, and still Sakura could find nothing to say. Finally, when he was only steps from them, Temari turned and said, "She fine. The dune didn't even collapse." Gaara didn't look moved in the slightest. He only nodded to his sister, the tip of his hat dipping and concealing his face from them for a split-second. Sakura swallowed and chewed on her bottom lip.

"Temari, you may go announce that the training grounds are open again," he ordered softly. Sakura nearly crumpled into the sand again. No, no, no! She'd thought that she could handle talking to him alone, but now she felt as though she didn't want Temari to leave. But the sand kunoichi bowed to her brother and did not even look back at Sakura. She was in mission-mode, and orders came before helping her new friend out of a painfully awkward situation.

Sakura watched in dismay as her only lifeline disappeared back into the walls of the city. She was now alone with him. Alone with Gaara. She took a deep breath to steady the fluttery unease in her stomach. _Now is the time,_ she commanded herself, C_lean up this mess before he ships your butt back to the forest!_

She drew her gaze away from the space that Temari had once occupied and turned her attention on Gaara. He was gazing at her expectantly with his dark ringed eyes. Suddenly his head dipped again, and one of his hands lifted. He removed his Kazekage hat and held it instead at his side. It was such a simple movement, but suddenly Sakura was speechless. Since she'd arrived in Suna, she had always seen him in his dimly-lit office. Even during the day, the lighting in that small room did not do him justice. Now, in the natural daylight of the outside, Sakura could find no words to describe him. His hair was a shade of red she'd never seen on a human before, exotic enough to be distinguishable but dark enough that it was unmistakably natural. The dark rings around his eyes looked starker than normal, and the symbol on his forehead shown brightly against the gentle bronze hint on his skin. She could not draw her gaze away from those beautiful emerald orbs.

Definitely did _not_ regret that kiss.

"Yes?"

Oh God, his voice. Why did it sound so much deeper and more masculine outside? Was it the way it carried on the air? She swallowed again and struggled for words. She couldn't just sit there and stare at him like a love-struck teenager.

_Why not? _Inner Sakura whined.

Sakura shook her head to relieve herself of such thoughts. She had to focus. She _had_ to tell him about the kiss…

She lowered her gaze respectfully. "Kazekage-sama—" she began.

"I believe I told you to call me Gaara."

Her head snapped back up and she gaped him. So it was true! He really had meant it when he told to call him by his first name. Suddenly this conversation felt much more difficult for Sakura. If he was still mad at her, would he really be comfortable with such a break in formality? Her head swam with confusion.

"Um, right," She finally managed with great effort, "I forgot. Gaara-san, I—"

"Just Gaara. No 'san' necessary."

Whoa, now he was really making it informal. Sakura just couldn't understand why he was suddenly so adamant about the way she addressed him. People called him by formal titles all the time. It was polite and, well, expected of any villager to refer to their Kage by the respectful designation. Sakura was sure that even Temari and Kankuro called him "Kazekage-sama" on occasion, and yet here he was, telling her, the lowly jonin kunoichi from Konoha, to address him simply by his first name.

"Gaara," she said slowly, as though testing dangerous waters. He made no further acknowledgment except to maintain his scorching gaze on her. Sakura clicked her jaw. Fine. If that was what he wanted, then so be it. She still had important business to discuss, and he was going to damn well listen to her argument after putting her through so much stress!

"Gaara," she said again, this time more assuredly, "I need to speak with you about something important."

Silence.

Sakura had half-expected him to cut her off or say that he had more important things to attend to, but he did neither. He still stood there, waiting patiently, with the soft remnants of a breeze whispering through his disheveled locks.

"About last night," she continued.

At long last: movement. He tilted his head slightly to the right, barely enough to even be noticeable. Sakura exhaled sharply. It should not have been anatomically possible for a man to look that much more attractive because of a simple shift in head position!

She scrunched her eyes to better her focus. _Stop it! Be professional!_

Sakura straightened her back and stood as tall as she possibly could. Gaara still towered over her, standing barely a foot or two away. She concluded that looking at his face was too distracting, and instead focused her attention on a buckle on the chest of his uniform. _Just talk to the buckle._

"Gaara, I need to speak with you about the—" She gulped. "Kiss."

There. She'd done it. She'd finally addressed the issue. Now all that was left was to explain that it had been nothing personal; it was just a lesson. Simple enough—right?

Gaara remained silent, and it took nearly all of Sakura's self-discipline to gaze at that metal buckle. She didn't think she could handle seeing the expression on his face. Was he angry? Annoyed? Appalled? Did he simply just not care at all? _Just keep going,_ her mind ordered, _Leave no stone unturned. Be completely clear with him, so that there is no more confusion._

"It was entirely inappropriate, and I understand that," she continued, "But I want you to know that it wasn't anything…personal. It was just meant to be a… a lesson."

Sakura exhaled. She probably sounded like such an idiot. What woman in her right mind would land herself in a situation like this? Why couldn't she have just remembered to tell him last night? Now the idea of a 'kissing lesson' just sounded like a lame cover-up story. She probably should've just pretended like she'd been too drunk to remember anything. Then she could've simply avoided the shame of confessing to her own idiocy.

Suddenly her view of the buckle was obscured as Gaara crossed his arms over his chest. Sakura quickly glanced up. The man in front of her still had his head tilted slightly. His rugged features were expressionless, save for the slight arch in one of his non-existent eyebrows. "A lesson," he echoed slowly. "Yes. And?"

Sakura blinked and her mouth fell open. "What?"

"What is it that you need to say about the lesson?"

Sakura's eyes expanded until they felt as though they would pop out of her head. Heat flushed her cheeks. "You knew it was a lesson?"

Gaara's raised eyebrow relaxed slowly and his mouth formed a thin line. "You told me it was so."

Sakura's mind was immediately in a frenzy_. I told him? When did I tell him?_ Inner Sakura tore through every memory she possessed of the night before, but she still found nothing. How did Gaara know?

"Sakura, my time is short." Gaara replaced his hat and dipped politely to her. "Now is not the time to discuss this."

Sakura was so frazzled that she did not even bow back. As he started moving away from her, she tramped along behind him with big, clumsy steps in the weak sand. "Hey, wait!" she called.

He stilled, but did not turn back to her. "Why not use this time to plan your next lesson?" he inquired absently. "I will be expecting reports of the medics' progress." And with that, he began walking again. Sakura did not try to follow him, however. She stood inert, staring at the back of his head until he disappeared back within the city walls.

"What. The. Hell?"

Sakura clenched her fists and aimed a sharp kick into sand beneath her. "Argh! I am such an idiot!" she growled. How could she not have known? Why couldn't she remember telling him that kiss wasn't real? Of all the details she remembered of that moment alone with him—the way she'd wanted to stare at his handsomeness forever, the way she'd deliberated on what type of kiss to give him, they way she'd gotten jealous at the very thought of him kissing another woman—why could she not remember actually telling him the pivotal subject of the situation? She did recall saying something about remaining calm and confident, for future reference. But never once did the term "lesson" cross her lips—

Or so she thought.

She ran her fingers through her petal-pink hair. It just didn't seem fair that Gaara was completely unfazed by something that rattled her so much. He didn't act as though he cared at all about what had passed between them. Not bothered in the slightest that she was a foreign kunoichi only in Suna on business, nor that she'd bypassed their standard political affiliation. He didn't even seem affected by that fact that that kiss was the due result of a kissing _lesson_. Wouldn't most men's pride be affected by such a proposition?

Sakura grit her teeth and stared out over the training fields again. There were a few people now scattered about: genin training with their sensei's, chunin and jonin sparring. She rested her hands on her hips and thought once more about Gaara's remarkable feat only moments ago. _He really is powerful,_ she thought admirably._ But why does he have to be so confusing?_

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Thank you for your time. I hope to have another chapter soon.

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	8. Where Gaara Forms a Plan

Good day, everyone!

Firstly, I would like to apologize for my rant from the previous chapter. Now it just seems as though I was throwing a pity-party for myself, and I'm sorry for dragging all of you into it. I respond well to criticism, but not insults, and so a single negative review amongst all the positive, well-thought out ones threw me for a loop. Again, I apologize to all of you whom that rant did not apply to. I adore you all very much.

Secondly, I would like to apologize for such a long period of dead time between updates. Most of you should be aware by now that I don't like publishing chapters that I myself am not satisfied with and that I've had particularly hard time keeping the characters in check for this story. This unfortunate occurrence happened once again, so I'm sorry for the delay.

Lastly, I have to apologize for the brevity of the chapter. It took me so long to write it that I thought it was much longer than it has turned out to be. What's worse, it's not even an especially eventful chapter.

-Sigh-

So, in short, I'm sorry. I hope the story is still to everyone's liking as of yet, and I hope to have another chapter soon. I would love to hear your thoughts and concerns, so feel free to R&R. Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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_What the hell did I just do?_

Gaara stalked hurriedly away from Sakura before she might say anything else to distract him. He had to get away as quickly as possible; he feared her knowledge of the truth, and it was much too possible for her to discover it if he allowed that conversation to continue.

He growled under his breath and dipped his chin, shielding his face from any passerby's that dotted the alleyway. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He'd been so upset last night that his training binge left him tired and fatigued. What's worse, he'd had to clean up his mess this morning.

Gaara knew he needed to rest and revitalize before the last of his stamina was spent. It simply wouldn't do, especially when he was out and about in the city, to exhaust all his energy and fall into one of the more unfortunate consequences, such as becoming sick or passing out. He'd worked damn hard enough to gain the respect of his people; he wasn't about to have their view of him lessened by something so pathetic as that.

Get some food. Get some water. Get out everyone's view. That was Gaara's goal as he made a familiar turn into a street market. Several citizens bowed to him, and many responded to the sight of him with surprised exclamations. It was no less than he'd anticipated; he had, after all, been cooped up in the Kazekage tower for two weeks, and it was likely that the people of Suna had wondered where he'd disappeared to. He nodded kindly to as many people as he could handle, exerting extra effort to disguise the level of his fatigue.

A chunin ninja that Gaara had come to recognize as Meijo stepped forward and bowed. "Kazekage-sama," he said as he straightened, "I saw the training fields this morning, but I heard you cleared them out, sir. Thank you."

"Of course," Gaara replied stiffly. He winced as his sore muscles screamed for respite.

"It must've been a hell of a storm," Meijo continued. "Caught us all by surprise."

Gaara replied with a weak sort of smirk. "Indeed." He no longer wanted to continue this exchange. He needed sustenance. Now. With a small tilt of his hat, he said politely, "If you'll excuse me." Meijo bowed deeply and thanked his Kazekage again, but Gaara was already on the move. He made a beeline for the nearest food stand he could. The woman running the stand seemed surprised to see him, but certainly not unhappy. She looked to be in her early twenties, with long dark hair billowing down her right shoulder, chocolate-colored eyes rimmed with long dark lashes, and a slender, womanly body that was tanned to the essence of toasted honey.

"Kazekage-sama," she hummed, "What a pleasant surprise!"

Gaara tried to live-up to the pleasant façade the woman declared. It took great amounts of effort to keep the polite smile he displayed from turning into a grimace as he listed his purchases.

"My my," the woman smirked, "Someone must be hungry." She placed the items in a bag and rolled the edges neatly before handing it to him. As Gaara sifted through his money satchel, he heard her rich, feminine voice purr, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Gaara glanced up to see the woman with her hands on her hips, accentuating the clothes that clung tightly to the natural curves winding up and down her profile. Her head was tilted slightly to the side and her shaded eyelids hung heavily. A seductive smirk was playing on her lips.

Gaara felt no physical reaction to her intimation. In fact, he felt nothing but the natural ache of his fatigue. With a weary glance to his surroundings, he cleared his throat and handed her the correct amount of money. "No, thank you."

The woman took the money with a pout and attempted to say something in response, but she was too late. Gaara had already moved away and was making his way to a thinner, less-crowded part of the street. It was difficult to find anywhere to be alone with so many people constantly pointing him out. He'd been singled out everywhere he went, all his life, and yet he still didn't feel comfortable with everyone's eyes always on him. With his ostentatious Kazekage robe, it felt as though people could recognize him coming for miles.

But every now and again, even a Kage needs a little break.

Gaara ducked behind a large pyramid of barrels that was positioned on the edge of the street and removed his robe and hat. Perhaps now he could disappear into an alleyway without too many people noticing. He rolled the hat into the robe and tucked the bundle underneath one of his arms before emerging back out into the street again. With his head angled down and out of sight, he wound left and right through the throngs of people. Gaara tried to ensure that he was never in a single place for too long in case someone might recognize him by face.

He continued onward, spying into random alleyways as often as the opportunity allowed. He finally discovered one that was empty and darted quickly into the shaded, cramped solitude, thankful to at last be free of the crowds. However, the longer he stood in the alleyway, the more he was assaulted by the stench of sour trash bundles. Gaara glanced around for another escape route that would lead him to somewhere a bit cleaner. His gaze locked on a metal ladder that stretched up one wall and snaked its way over the edge of the building. _A roof._ He sighed with relief. _Perfect. _After a bit of creative handling, he eventually managed to hoist all the items he had up the ladder with him. The bars on the ladder were hot from exposure in the sun, but he kept moving until he at last managed to swing a leg over the top edge of the wall.

Sweet reprieve.

The roof was wonderfully bare, and the air was clear. He sat in the shadow of a skylight block that jutted intrusively out of the middle of the roof and leaned his head back on the cool clay structure. His limbs felt heavy and his throat felt parched. He tore his sack open and retrieved the bottle of water and an apple that he'd purchased. He felt so starved that the sudden introduction of food made his stomach retract with pain and he grimaced, but after a moment he was able to relax again, finally indulging in the solace around him. At last, the poor young man could take a moment to reflect.

After speaking to his brother and sister the night before, Gaara had ventured to the training grounds searching for a way to calm his turbulent mind. He hadn't trained so hard in years—It is especially difficult to train when one's enemy is oneself. For lack of a sparring partner, he'd fought sand clones of himself. It might've seemed counterproductive, for he knew simultaneously every weak-spot of every clone, and he knew every way in which they would counter his attacks. But it did not matter to Gaara that no substantial progress was made; it was simply a means of focusing his thoughts.

To conceal the battle, he willed a turbulent mass of sand upon the side of the city. It seemed he'd successfully fooled everyone into the belief that it was sporadic, unexpected sand storm, when in reality it was all of his own doing. The only people he suspected might know the truth were his siblings, for they were the only two witnesses to his disappearance. The unfortunate side-effect of this, however, was the massive collection of sand leftover from his session. And, of course, as Kazekage he would be the one to call when every single one of the training grounds was immersed in sand. Despite his exhaustion, he'd dutifully removed all the sand he'd inadvertently placed there, nearly depleting the last of his chakra.

Gaara had effectively kicked his own ass last night, but what did he have to show for it? When dawn broke he'd released his energetic hold on the clones and simply listened to the whistle of sand and wind. He stood there, feeling the gentle downward tug of the dune in which he stood and the encroaching heat of the sunrise on his skin. At last he'd spent the stress on his mind, and he could focus. He could process all that had happened, event by event, minute by minute.

Starting with Sakura.

The question was where to start.

Gaara took a long, desperate gulp from his water bottle and sighed, remembering his conversation with her not that long ago. She'd looked so lovely. Tired, perhaps. Worried, even—but still lovely. He hadn't seen her outside before today. Her delicate skin looked luminescent in the sunlight and the pale pink color of her hair shone like a pearl. He'd wanted to reach out and touch it, to apologize for the way he had treated her, but he could not. She'd come looking for him, to talk to him about what had happened, but he wouldn't have it. He didn't _want_ her to apologize. He didn't _want_ her to tell him that it was all a mistake. He didn't _want_ her to be embarrassed or ashamed of what she'd done.

Above all else, Gaara did not want Sakura to regret that kiss.

Instead he'd lied—for her sake. He'd saved her the trouble of confessing that it had all been a lesson by claiming she'd already told him. That, of course, was false. Temari and Kankuro had been the ones to tell him everything, but he'd suspected that Sakura would eventually realize that she had not told him herself. Naturally, the civil thing to do would be to come to him directly, which was exactly what she had done, and try her best to explain her actions, to edge slowly backward across the bridge that had already been crossed between them. By apologizing for that kiss, Gaara feared it was Sakura's goal to erase what had happened between them and continue on as if it had never happened.

But Gaara didn't want that either.

The weary young man sighed with exasperation again and let his head fall back against the wall with a '_thud'_, feeling disturbingly older and more somnolent than his youthful body should have. _What the hell __**do**__ you want? _he asked himself. His mind felt strained from the confusing emotions he felt. Why couldn't he have just let Sakura do what she'd tried to? Why couldn't they go back to pretending like nothing had happened? Why didn't he just send her back to Konoha and be rid of her once and for all?

That's what he _should've_ done.

But it was certainly not what he _wanted_ to do.

Gaara did not want Sakura to leave, especially not on account of what had happened. In fact, he was no longer even upset with the actual incident. His only regret was that he'd treated her harshly and hurt her feelings—the kiss itself, well, that was a different story entirely.

He scoffed. "_Kiss_" was a loose term in regards to himself. Sakura did all the kissing; he'd just sat there, petrified._ She probably would've better off kissing a statue_, he scowled. He was embarrassed for the way he'd reacted. After all the incriminating thoughts and fantasies he'd had about the pink-haired kunoichi, having her approach him the way she did and kiss him with little hesitation was astounding. What with his inescapable physical attraction to the woman, he couldn't believe he'd become frozen in front of her. Why then, of all moments, had his body locked up?

Gaara felt the water bottle being crunched by the tension in his hand. He took a second to relax his muscles again, but it did little to lessen the ache in his pride. He growled and closed his eyes. _Stop acting like a fool,_ he commanded to himself. He was the Kazekage, after all!—In charge of leading an entire village! He couldn't afford to let one woman affect him so much.

But affect him she did.

The red-haired man ground his teeth and slammed a fist into the warm, clay surface of the roof. How could Sakura hold this much sway over him? His body ached when he thought of her. His chest felt thick. On the one hand he felt he needed to uphold his honor as Sunagakure's Kazekage, yet on the other he felt desire gnawing at his insides. He wanted a second chance at that kiss, a second chance to prove to Sakura that he wasn't a fool, or a failure. He refused to pretend that nothing had happened, refused to allow Sakura to apologize, because Gaara felt as though he'd missed his one opportunity to be with the one woman who _did_ affect him. The only woman that ever had.

Not the woman at the food stand.

Not the groups of fan girls that occasionally bombarded him in the streets.

Only Sakura.

Gaara opened his eyes and stared over the rooftops of his village. Somehow, someway, he would find some middle ground. He would find a way to uphold his title without being subjected indefinitely to the charms of a single woman.

The only obstacle, he feared, would be Sakura's reluctance. There would be no way of knowing if she would submit to his resolve. What if there really was no second chance?

Gaara pulled a single hand through his wind-swept hair and let it snake down to rest on the back of his neck. His gaze lowered to the white and blue bundle of cloth at his feet before sweeping back over the skyline. He tilted his chin up proudly as a breeze ruffled quietly past.

_I will not give up._

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Yes, like I said, not very long or eventful, but the next chapter I post should be a bit more exciting. In the meantime, I'm eager to hear your thoughts on the story thus far.

Hit me with your best shot!

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	9. Where Sakura Must Face the Truth

Ah yes, I have returned.

Firstly, I would like to wish everyone a happy Autumn!

This is my favorite time of the year. The weather has been beautiful recently, and I found myself with a rare opportunity to write. This chapter, like the last one, is neither particularly long nor eventful, but it's an update, nonetheless, right?

Well I suppose that's up to the opinion of the reader.

I know I said I would have a more exciting chapter follow-up than this one, but with the way I write it is sometimes awkward to find decent places in which to cut off actual chapters, so the transition to the chapter after this one might be a bit awkward.

But whatever—I'm just rambling now.

Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

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Sakura sighed and rested her chin in her hands, making sure to maintain a watchful gaze over her pupils. The classroom was fluctuating with dozens of different chakras, and the pressure of the energy made her temples ache. For lack of a better lesson plan, Sakura had resolved that they would continue practicing the healing techniques they'd already learned until they'd managed near perfection. It was a similar strategy that Tsunade had used to train Sakura herself, but because of time limitations she had not considered allowing them the actual time to hone their abilities until this week. Sakura's thoughts and feelings had been so jumbled the past few days that forming structured lessons was near impossible—even keeping track of her reports was frustrating. She'd fallen at least four days behind, ever since she'd gone out with Temari and Kankuro.

_Ugh. Now is not the time to think about that,_ she warned herself. In truth, she desperately needed to focus on teaching. Her students were nearing the end of their third day of skill-perfecting practice, and they were getting to be pretty good. They weren't completely flawless, obviously, but they still had a great deal to learn. If she could only get her act together, they could proceed to harder injuries.

"Sakura-sensei," called a young chunin kunoichi from behind an operation table, "I'm finished."

Sakura tilted her head in the direction of the voice and stood slowly. The chunin indicated the area in which she had been working and took a respectful step backward. Sakura approached the table and examined the body, scalpel and gauze in hand. The previously severed thigh looked to be in excellent condition; she could not even see any bruising or scarring.

"Lovely," Sakura whispered with a hint of pride. She turned to the woman and nodded. "I'm impressed." The pupil's cheeks flushed with pink and she smiled to Sakura, a gesture which the elder jonin returned. Suddenly, without a single word, Sakura's hand sliced downward, scalpel blade gleaming. The once-healed appendage split open again, revealing newly ripped muscles, torn cartilage, and a freshly-cracked femur bone. The chunin stared in horror at what had once been her impressive handiwork, and looked back to her teacher with confusion and heartbreak ready to spill over her cheeks. Sakura gave her a nod of empathy and said quietly, "Do it again."

The young woman's shoulders slumped. Sakura knew she must've been tired; it was likely she'd used a great deal of chakra to reconnect that leg so neatly. But Sakura had been in the exact same boat hundreds of times. How often had Tsunade forced her to redo a procedure multiple times over before allowing her to go home? There had been nights in Sakura's past where she'd spent hours upon hours healing the same injury over again, just to have Tsunade reopen it. It was the same method her shishou had used to teach her how to control her chakra-induced strength: Do it until you don't hurt anyone else; Do it until you don't hurt yourself; Do it until you can do it right; And finally, do it until you _can't_ do it wrong. That was how Sakura had learned her own skills, and that's how she intended on teaching them to others—disheartening though that method sometimes was.

Such as in this occasion. The chunin kunoichi refused to meet Sakura's gaze as she slowly stepped back up to the table and held her palms over the new wound. Sakura sighed and wiped off her bloodied hand. She felt bad for the young woman now but knew there was little she could do to console her. Sakura knew firsthand the indignant feelings the chunin probably felt toward her in that moment; it had taken years before she'd come to fully understand and respect the way in which Tsunade had trained her. Sakura now held the title of Konoha's second-greatest medic nin, and it was all thanks to her Shishou's inexplicably difficult instruction method.

Sakura's compassion eventually got the best of her, and she said to the chunin, "I'm sorry. It really was good work. Just think how much better it will be the next time." Her student nodded heavily but still did not look at her. Sakura gave a single nod of solemn understanding and turned her attention to the rest of the room. Some of the medics were still working, but most had stopped and were staring in shock at her and the cadaver that she'd recently mutilated. Sakura positioned her hands on her hips and said wearily, "Is there anyone else who would like me to inspect their work?" When no one answered her inquiry, she warned, "Then I suggest you all continue working."

Thirty-something faces dipped back down and she was once again alone with her thoughts. No longer the object of their attention, Sakura finally relaxed her façade and let her mouth slip into a sad little frown. She didn't enjoy being the 'bad guy'. She was confident that most, if not all, of her students regarded her as the "Bitch Teacher from Konoha," but she felt there was really nothing she could do to amend those feelings. It was her job to train them, not to be their friend or any other such affiliation. But she knew she was taking out her stress on them, treating them more harshly than they deserved. After their blundering first week, nearly all the medics had stepped up to the bill and were progressing at an impressive rate. She truthfully felt very proud of all of them. It wasn't fair of her to keep subjecting them to her own temper.

Sakura glanced quickly at the clock that hung on the wall above them. They still had nearly two-and-a-half hours left devoted to class time. Sakura chewed on her lip and debated the situation, but finally settled on an executive decision. Such a decision could easily get her sent back to Konoha, but she felt that, considering the circumstances of the last few days, it was a miracle she was not already back in the forest by now. She clapped her hands and announced, "Listen up everyone!" The class's attention was once again focused on her, and she forced a new smile on her face. "You all have been working especially hard these past three days and I am very impressed with your work. Tomorrow we will start something new, but for this afternoon I've decided that you all deserve a break. If you will simply finish the wound you are currently working on, I will come and inspect it, and after you have cleaned up your area, I will then release you early for the day."

The faces of the students around her alit with shock and awe. Within moments, a young man in the back raised a tentative hand, and Sakura advanced towards his table. True to her word, she gave him a nod and a smile after checking over the wound. He seemed unsure, however, and took several moments to clean his utensils and return his cadaver to the freezer room as though he expected that she was joking or that she might call him back. The second he was safely out the door, though, three more hands crawled skyward. Sakura spent another half an hour going by to check over every student's work, releasing those whose wounds looked adequately healed. The final student remaining was the chunin that Sakura had originally inspected, and she released her as well, despite the fact that she had not finished reconnecting the torn skin. "I'll finish up here," Sakura offered kindly, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

When at last the room was empty of medic nin, Sakura took a moment to finish healing the thigh as she'd promised and return the body to the freezer. It was a quick job for her, and as a final gesture, she made sure the rest of the room was entirely cleaned up. She switched off the lights, exited the room, and locked the door behind her.

_Ah. Freedom._

Sakura felt the same rush of excitement that she'd seen displayed on the faces of her students. It was a rare event, especially in the world of Shinobi, that you could receive a break from training or working. In fact, it was generally frowned upon, because during missions, opportunities to indulge in breaks are slim-to-none, and field ninjas are expected to perform during missions to the fullest degree.

Of course, nearly every sensei she'd known through the years would occasionally bend that rule by rewarding good behavior or progress: Iruka treated Naruto to ramen. Kakashi had pretended to treat Team Seven to ramen, before leaving them with the bill. Jiraiya-sama rewarded Naruto with porn.

Even Tsunade-shishou had allowed Sakura respite in the past. There was once a time when several of Sakura's friends had planned to go out on the town for Ino's birthday. Sakura was busy assisting her mentor with reports; they'd spent the day training outside, and had just begun sorting the reports by mission class and rank when Ten Ten entered to drop off a last minute assignment. Surprised to find Sakura still working, she asked lightly whether or not her friend would be joining them. Dutiful Sakura declined and asked that Ten Ten wish Ino a happy birthday for her. It had not been much longer after Ten Ten's departure that Tsunade abruptly declared that she no longer felt like doing paperwork and decided to take a night off. She sent Sakura away without further instruction, but Sakura knew her true intentions; she knew they would pay the price of skipping a night of reading reports. But Sakura had been allowed time with her friends, and for that, she was thankful.

As she strolled out the doors of the hospital, Sakura continued reminiscing. She missed Konoha dearly. She was midway through her third week in Suna, and she hadn't had any contact with her home village since the letter Tsunade had sent at the end of her first week. Maybe she could send her friends a postcard, or something, and hope they would return the gesture. _It's Always Sunny in Suna!_, the card would cheerfully proclaim. On the back she could comment sarcastically, _Yes, unfortunately, it is_. Naruto would get a kick out of that.

She sighed sadly. What were her friends doing now? Were they on missions of their own? Would they be there when she returned? One could never be certain, in the profession of a Shinobi, if a ninja would return from a mission in the exact condition he or she left in. In Sakura's life, she'd encountered two types of Shinobi: the kind that formed unbreakable friendships and the kind that avoided affiliation with others above all else. The wisest thing to do, perhaps, was to be a ninja of the latter sort; if you care about no one but yourself, then it doesn't hurt to lose anyone else. But Sakura prided herself for not being of that nature. She felt blessed to have as many friends as she did. All her friends were fierce warriors, proud upholders of the things they believed in. It was Sakura's own personal opinion that ninja who create bonds with one another perform more gallantly in battle. How many times had she seen Naruto push himself to be stronger and greater for the sake of his friends? It was always in the service of someone he loved that Naruto was able to unlock some hidden power, the chakra of the Kyuubi, and overcome any obstacle or enemy that stood in his way.

Sakura smiled as she continued meandering down the road. She missed Naruto, silly idiot though he was. And she missed Ino-pig, too. Oh, what Sakura would give to have them here to argue with her right now. She missed Naruto's incessant requests for dates. She missed Ino's infuriating superiority complex. She missed Hinata and Ten Ten and Shikamaru and Choji. She even missed Kakashi, even though he was an elusive, sometimes insulting mooch. She missed the trees in the forest, hopping through their branches and peering over their peaks. She missed being able to gaze out at the mountain range by the village, or go romping with her girlfriends in one of the creeks. She missed the deciduous landscape and the temperate weather.

She missed Konoha.

But it was not fair of her to whine like this. It was not as though Suna was completely barren and boring. It had its own brand of beauty. The golden hue of the city would not have suited any other climate, and Sakura had never seen more beautiful sunrises or sunsets. Without the issue of foliage or mountains, Sakura could watch the clear horizon until the very last glimpse of the sun disappeared below the edge of sightline. The view was amazing, as well. You could see for hundreds of miles in some directions. It was not surprising that the people here thrived; they had learned to work symbiotically with their environment. They were rough, like the sand-worn skin on their hands, but they were kind—most of them.

But the beauty of Suna could not completely erase her longing for Konoha. This mission felt excruciatingly drawn-out. It was not as though she hadn't been on missions as long as this one before, though—It was just that she had never been confined to a single area. Normally long missions involved a great deal of traveling, or at least an exciting degree of espionage. Not here. Here she was just Haruno Sakura, and her only responsibilities were to wake, train, eat, sleep, and repeat.

_Only another week and a half,_ she promised herself. Then she could return to her life in the forest, and she would no longer have to worry about the demands on Suna's medical unit or even the mood swings of a certain ridiculous Kazekage. No sir, she could just relax in the comfort of her own home village, in her own little apartment. Alone.

A sudden rush despair clouded Sakura's mind. She quickly rounded a corner into an alleyway and pressed her back against the stone wall, clutching her chest as though she could not breathe. The despair thickened and solidified just underneath where her hand was placed, squeezing around her lungs and engulfing her heart. Sakura took quick, short breaths, trying to free herself from the cold grasp, but it did little to help. _Why?_ She struggled, _Why do I feel like this?_

Sakura let her knees give way and she scooted down to a sitting position. Nothing made sense. Konoha was her home. She missed it more than anything right now. She missed her friends and Tsunade. It was not like she was ever really alone in Konoha. There was always someone around, someone she recognized, or at least somewhere familiar to go. Not here—not in Suna. She was the only Konoha resident present.

But the longer Sakura pondered the feeling, the more she realized that it was fear. It was a _fear_ of being alone—not in Suna, but in Konoha, not for a lack of friends and acquaintances, but for a lack of…

Her eyes widened and her teeth gnashed together. _No…_

_No!_

_I should not be feeling this now_, she thought desperately. _I cannot allow myself to feel this way_. Sakura clenched her fists and stood, back pressed fully against the wall. She should've never taken this mission from Tsunade. She should've never tampered with the wishes of the Kages, for now she was involved physically, mentally, and now suddenly, emotionally. She should've never agreed to stay in the Kazekage tower, should've never agreed to stay in Suna at all.

Because now… Now she was afraid.

Afraid of being alone again.

Afraid of losing him.

Sakura closed her eyes as moisture blurred her vision, while a single name fluttered hauntingly through her mind:

_Gaara_.

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Yep. Another large dose of character development. Woohoo!

I would definitely love some critiques. Have at it!

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan


	10. Where Gaara Has an Interesting Dream

Good day everyone!

Well I must apologize for the delay. The past few months have been quite stressful for me, and finding time to write has been difficult. But I promised myself that I would have a new chapter up for my birthday, as a gift of personal accomplishment to myself.

So there ya go. Voila.

I do wish to say that I'm sorry if it feels like the story is going excessively slow. In my own defense, I'm having to describe the inner turmoil of two hormonal young-adults who, quite frankly, can't see the big picture quite yet. It's very frustrating, even for me, but it just wouldn't make sense if Gaara or Sakura made a complete 180-degree character change in the time-span on one chapter, now would it?

I don't think so either. I'm glad to see that we agree.

Anyways! Here's to the next enstallment of Revamped.

Happy Birthday!

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan

* * *

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

"Sorry…"

Sakura walked quietly along, consumed in her own thoughts. A large, gruff man grunted his disapproval as he shoved past her, but she hardly noticed nor cared. She felt like a shadow, numb to her surroundings, and yet stuck in the middle of everything all at once. It made no difference that she'd released her students early; her two-hour break had been wasted wandering along the streets of Sunagakure. She'd meandered past the main market district, into the housing districts, and looped back towards the hospital. It did not matter where she went—_eventually I'll have to go back there, _she thought_, I'll have to go back to him._

The longer she delayed her return to the Kazekage tower, the more threatening the inevitable became. She could not leave, disappear back to Konoha. It would be shameful to not complete her mission, never mind her bet. She still had just over a week until her torment could end.

_But will I last that long?_ she wondered. Of course her feelings for Gaara were inescapable—she'd found him handsome from the moment she'd stepped in his office. But this… This was much more dangerous. Too feel such despair as she had at the thought of leaving Suna, of leaving Gaara behind, was downright foolish. Wrong, unacceptable, inviolable on a number of different levels. He was the fucking Kazekage!

_You should know your place by now, Haruno,_ she thought bitterly._ You'd be better off dating Naruto._

Why did it always seem as though she was doomed to fall for the men she could not have? Sasuke had abandoned her, practically cut out her own heart and handed it to her, the day he left the village. And yet she'd still pursued him for years, finally giving up only after her jounin induction. Now she was cursed with thoughts and feelings for a man she would definitely never stand a chance with: Different rank, different village, different… everything. Gaara could never return her feelings. How could any earthly possibility of such a thing exist? He probably felt nothing but disdain for her. Sure, a certain number of lines had been crossed in their relationship recently, but it did not change their relationship as a whole: he was still the Kazekage, and she was still just plain, old Haruno Sakura.

Sakura wrapped her arms around herself as she rounded a corner by the hospital. Once again she found herself on familiar ground. Medic nin ambled about the area, stopping for quick meals and hot tea to-go. Vendors called out, offering the same smoked pork, the same rice pastries, the same beef ramen they had been two hours ago. The carts and the people and the sandy-colored street were the same. The sky was still a clear, endless blue. The air was still thick and warm, laced with the scents hot broth and straw.

Nothing around her had changed very much in so short an amount of time, but Sakura felt as though she'd undergone a change of a lifetime. She knew now; she had feelings, deep, emotional, forbidden feelings for Subaku no Gaara, and still the world turned on.

"Sensei? Sakura-sensei, are you alright?"

Sakura glanced up to see the familiar face of one of her students, Miekuyu, gazing at her with concern splayed across his features. She released her self-conscious clutch-hold and offered a weak smile. "Oh, yes of course, Miekuyu. I'm fine."

The young man did not seem convinced, and he offered his hand toward her. "Are you sure, Sakura-sensei? Would you like me to escort you back to your hotel?"

Sakura nearly scoffed at the irony. If only she had the solitude of a hotel to return to in the first place. "That's alright. I was just heading back to…back to the Kazekage tower now." With a shaky sigh, she added, "Thank you."

Miekuyu bowed dutifully and said, "Yes, Sensei, as you wish. But, if you'll permit me, I must say that you're not looking very well at the moment. Are you sure you don't need an escort to the tower? Or perhaps you would like to rest a while here in the hospital?"

Sakura combed a hand through her petal-pink hair and barely stifled a groan. Miekuyu's concern was flattering, but hardly necessary and even a bit annoying. "I'll be fine. It's just the sun, I'm sure. No need to worry." She gave a shallow nod, eliciting another bow from him as she said, "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Miekuyu. Good day."

She kicked back into motion, this time with a set destination in mind. It was time to return to the mansion; she refused to avoid it any longer. She could not deny her feelings for the Kazekage, but perhaps she could ignore them for the remainder of her stay in Suna. _Just focus on your work,_ she instructed herself._ He's been hiding away for the past few days anyways… maybe you can continue to go unnoticed. Write your reports for Tsunade, plan a decent lesson schedule for the medics, and do not think about him. It's only for a little while longer. That's all you have to do._

_Yeah, good luck with that,_ Inner Sakura sneered.

Rest. That's what she needed. A deep, replenishing slumber to clear her thoughts. Sakura made up her mind, then. She would return to the tower and go straight to bed, no exceptions. Not even if one of her students called to request tutoring. Not even if Temari offered much-needed girl time. Not even if Gaara called upon her himself. It was time to get back to her initial mission, and to do so, she would need some rest.

O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Gaara sighed as the last of the village elders finally departed from his office. It had been entirely too long a meeting, and it had not helped that his mind was constantly bombarded with thoughts of a specific kunoichi. Already he was concerned that he thought about her at all, though he'd recently accepted that he could no longer try to ignore the thoughts. The fact that she was interfering more and more with his position of leadership in the village, though, was truly disconcerting. Twice this evening, he'd been scolded for appearing 'distracted'.

But he could not rid her from his mind. He'd resolved only days ago that he would no longer try to push her away, but since then he had barely seen her at all. Likewise, it seemed as though tonight would be the same unless he acted quickly. It was late enough in the evening that she would certainly be back in the mansion, but it would soon cease to be an acceptable hour in which to call upon her. Initially, a trivial aspect such as this would not have bothered him, but, recently, he felt less and less inclined to drive Sakura away in any manner.

A dull ache still raged through his muscles, and he felt fifty years older and much like the elders whom had just left his presence moments ago. With slow movements and a barely audible groan, Gaara pushed himself to his feet and walked towards the edge of his office. He leaned his body in the open door frame. "Mitaya," he called gruffly.

The sweet old woman stood quickly and bowed to him. "Kazekage-sama," she replied respectfully, "May I help you, sir?"

"Where is Haruno Sakura at the moment?" he asked, trying to appear uncaring and cold toward the Leaf kunoichi. Mitaya straightened and a small frown played on her lips.

"She looked ill when she returned this evening," she said evenly. "She told me that she needed to rest, so I would presume she is asleep, currently."

_Ill?_ he wondered, _how could she have become ill so suddenly?_ Yet another opportunity had been robbed of him, it seemed. Perhaps he would follow her example and turn in. It could do him no harm, since his body still protested at the slightest hint of movement. He'd really pushed himself to the brink on Sunday. He was still slowly recovering.

He sighed. "What time is it?" he asked wearily.

"Almost ten, sir."

Gaara tilted his head to the side. Nearly ten? That meeting had gone on longer than he'd anticipated. It was imperative, for there were speculations of holding the upcoming chunin exams in Suna, and as Kazekage, he insisted on knowing every detail in the planning. As a young man, however, it felt as though his entire day had been wasted.

"Sir?"

Gaara gazed at Mitaya, his loyal assistant. How was it that she was still working? Surely, a woman of her age should've been in bed by this hour… Suddenly, he felt a bit guilty. He should've had more respect for those older than him. It was up to him to dismiss her as necessary, yet tonight he'd forgotten.

"Ah," he grunted and turned is face away, "It's been a long day. You're free to go, Mitaya. I'm sorry you were kept waiting."

"Oh, it's no trouble, sir," Mitaya said bowing. "I hope you have a good night, sir."

Gaara nodded in acknowledgement and retreated back into his office. He organized his most recent work into a small, neat stack in the left corner of his desk, retrieved his gourd from its resting place against the wall, and clicked off the light. The darkness was so sudden that he retained a momentary stain of white on the inside of his eyelids. His eyes adjusted and he sighed, heading towards his sleeping quarters.

The Kazekage bedroom was unmatchable in grandeur, the most extravagant room in the whole of Suna. Or, so it was told. To Gaara, it was just another room. He had no way of knowing whether or not his dresser had the most available drawer space or if his bed had the softest pillows, and he doubted previous Kazekages would've known such information either. It was a grand room, to be certain, filled with cherry-stained wood furniture with accents of maroon, burnt-red, and gold. He had a four-poster bed that reached almost as high as the ceiling, a large dresser that had a wide, ornately-framed mirror, and a spacious bathroom complete with a shower and bath.

But from Gaara's perspective, it was still just a room. A room that had once been inhabited by his father…by his mother. A room that four other Kazekages had lived and slept in. A room that Gaara spent little time in anyways. Truthfully, it felt more like a formality, like residence in the mansion itself. He only held the honor of sleeping in this room because he held the honor of the Kage title. It was only ironic misfortune that he still retained his insomniatic habits.

Gaara sighed as he stepped into the darkness of his bedroom. Moonlight splayed from his window, stretching a pale blue sheen over the furniture, walls, and floor. It illuminated the gold accents inlaid into the deep red material of his bed coverings and chased away the darkest shadows of the room. Others might've complained about the brightness of the moon on a night such as this one, but to Gaara, it was one of the few redeeming qualities of this room. He could lay in bed for hours and just gaze at it, memorizing every crater and outline. He used to love gazing at the moon every night, back when it felt like the moon was his only real companion. When everyone else went to sleep, the moon was always there, be it a full face or just a sliver. He'd seen every phase of the moon throughout his lifetime, had mapped out its changes night by night. New moons were the worst—it made the world seem even darker and the sky seem lonely. But Luna would always return, without fail, something Gaara found comfort in.

Luckily, he could see the moon no matter where he went, so oftentimes he didn't even make an effort to sleep in his room. Despite his recently acquired ability to sleep, it still proved difficult to accomplish on occasion. Shukaku still tormented his dreams, memories of the pain and hatred he endured. There were so many nightmares, so many images… the faces of people he'd killed, Yashamaru's last words, the unbearable pain of having his soul ripped in two…

It was just easier to stay awake and stare at the white face of his lunar friend.

Tonight, however, his body was aching for sleep. His muscles were stiff and his limbs felt heavy. Gaara deposited his gourd by the edge of the bed and sat down. He kicked off his sandals, reached over his head, and pulled his robe over, allowing the cool air grace his chest and back. He exhaled a heavy sigh, relishing in the simple refreshment of air on his skin. He removed the few kunai he kept strapped to his left arm, stood, and untied the waist line of his pants. The garment dropped loosely to the floor. Now reduced to a plain pair of black boxers, Gaara rolled slowly over the mattress of his bed, placing his weapons in close reach. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked out the window. The moon was beautiful tonight: proud, bold, and almost full.

_I wonder what Sakura would think of the moon,_ he found himself musing. Would she appreciate its beauty like he did? Perhaps he would never know. He'd missed her once again tonight. She was probably asleep by now. What would happen if he slipped in to watch her?

Gaara's chest expanded as he sucked in a deep breath. The idea was enticing, and he knew precisely what to do: he could send in his Third Eye to see if she was, in fact, asleep and then he could dematerialize into sand to slip in unnoticed. He would stand over her and memorize her every detail: the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eye lashes as she dreamt. Perhaps he could even lie down next to her on the bed, hold her if she was having nightmares…

_Now that's enough_, he scolded his over-active imagination. His muscles protested at the very thought of using any more chakra. And, he reminded himself, there were still certain boundaries he could not cross. What would happen if Sakura were to wake up with him at her side? Firstly—and instinctively—she would probably trill to kill him. Every good shinobi keeps weapons close at hand, especially when he or she is sleeping. Secondly, she would most likely be angry and humiliated. He would receive nothing but shit from Konoha if she ratted him out, not to mention distrust from his own citizens. No honest, tax-paying citizen would be willing to take orders from a Kazekage whom they believed to be a pervert.

But again, Gaara's mind returned to thoughts of Sakura's slender frame pressed up against him. He closed his eyes and imagined her head resting on his chest, with small strands of her delicate pink hair tickling his skin. He envisioned the slight pressure of her slight little arm winding around his middle, holding tightly. Without thinking, he let one of his arms snake down to pull her closer, almost surprised when his hand collided with his own side, encircling nothing but air. He let it fall uselessly against the mattress and sighed. _This is pointless_, he thought foolishly. But it _was_ comforting, in a masochistic sort of way. Feeling a bit like an idiot but no longer caring, Gaara reached behind his head and pulled one of several pillows down until it was resting by side. He simply wanted the presence of something next to him, so he let his arm lie across it, like it would if it were resting on the shoulder of a petite young woman. He sighed again and returned to his foolish, selfish thoughts, allowing the unfamiliar tug of slumber pull softly at his core. Perhaps, this time, the nightmares would stay away.

O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Sakura rolled underneath her sheets, caught between being asleep and being awake. She struggled to remain with the first, for she didn't want to leave the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her or the heat of bare skin against bare skin. Whatever world she was dreaming in was too perfect to leave, and the tug of livelihood depressed her. She felt her consciousness shifting, shifting from dream to reality, and she was helpless to resist it. By the time her eyes cracked open, she felt like punching a hole through something. The dream had been so wonderful—why did it have to be interrupted so quickly? But her consciousness was already clearing, putting realistic memories back into place, reminding her of who and where she was and the reasons for thus. She groaned and closed her eyes, trying to coax back the dream. It was too late. All she had left were flitting little glimpses of warm, sun-tinted skin, dark red hair, and deep green irises.

_Wait a minute…_

Her eyes flew open and she flew to sitting position. Gaara! She was dreaming about Gaara! Sakura angrily drove a fist into the nearest pillow. "Damn it!" she cursed out loud. She couldn't escape the man, not even in sleep!

Sakura's anger dissipated, but her embarrassment did not. She could not close her eyes without remembering images from her dream. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and let her head hang down. _At least it was an innocent dream_, she thought. But immediately she began second-guessing herself. Her cheeks flared with heat and she clapped a hand over her mouth. _It was innocent, wasn't it?_ she thought frantically. She couldn't remember… It just had to be innocent. Gaara was just holding her. That's was all the dream was. Nothing more…

Sakura took in a deep breath, trying to swallow down the mortification she felt. How could she expect to survive another week-and-a-half of this? It just wasn't healthy. It was unrealistic to try and avoid him, especially now that he had infiltrated her subconscious.

Regardless, there was no way she could fall back asleep now. She checked the clock by her bed and groaned as it clicked mockingly to 2:09 AM. A momentary shiver of shock crawled up her spine as her feet touched the cold wood floor, but it was gone a second later. Maybe she could go down to the kitchen and get a midnight (or rather, a two-in-the-freaking-morning) snack. Perhaps even a glass of milk. She'd gone to sleep so early that her natural clock was right on schedule. In a way, it was her own damn fault that she was awake right then. Sakura groaned and ambled slowly out into the hallway, a steady string of expletives running through her exhausted mind.

O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

A strangled gasp broke through Gaara's parted lips as he awoke. He sat up quickly, the cool air chilling the sweat on his back and chest. Shallow breaths echoed off the walls of his bedroom, dancing and shuddering through the darkness.

"Ungh,"

Gaara scooted upward on his bed and leaned his head back against the headboard. Of all the nights in which to wake up prematurely, tonight had to be the worst. Firstly, his muscles still ached from last Sunday, protesting at even the slightest of movements. He obviously hadn't had enough time to recovery. Secondly, this sleep had actually been enjoyable. No terrible thoughts or memories haunted his dreams tonight.

No, tonight was much different. He'd dreamt about Sakura.

But for some reason, he'd woken up abruptly. The memories in his head, though, were still fresh, still vivid. Flashes danced past Gaara's eyes as he remembered: pale pink hair as soft as flower petals, delicate porclein-colored skin, the tickle of tiny, feminine fingertips along his skin, the beautiful ring of his name echoing off her voice… It suddenly felt too hot underneath his sheets, and he pulled them back. With a guilty glance at the crumpled pillow at his side, he suddenly realized why.

"Fuck."

Amongst the images and frenzied thoughts now cascading through his mind, that was the only word it seemed Gaara could articulate. He resolved to simply staring at the wall. His throat tasted sour and dry, and his legs felt weak. He'd heard tale of these kinds of dreams, but he'd never considered the fact that he might experience one first-hand, nor had he considered the consequences. It was…interesting. He swallowed several times, trying to force logical thoughts into the fuzziness of his mind. The images were so strong that it was hard to make sense of them.

Suddenly he felt ashamed, for both himself and Sakura. He fallen asleep imagining simple pleasures, such as having her by his side. That alone was borderline. This, however, was an embarrassment. As a Shinobi, as Kazekage, hell—even as a gentleman, he should have had more control over his own thoughts.

But very few people can have control over their dreams.

Gaara rubbed a tired hand down his face and glanced around. The moon had shifted in the sky, sending shadows into different parts of the room. Gaara swung his legs out of the bed and stood. He needed a distraction. Or maybe a stiff drink.

He changed into a longer pair of lounge pants and pulled his sleeping robe over his shoulders. There was no chance he could go back to sleep after that, not without eliciting the same explicit images.

O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The string of curses was growing louder in Sakura's mind as she rummaged through kitchen. She closed yet another cabinet door and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at the countertop.

"Seriously?" she asked it, "Only, like, three people actually live here. Where. Do they keep. The damn _cups_?"

The countertop did not answer.

Growling angrily, Sakura stooped over to look in the lower cabinets. She couldn't figure out who in their right minds would keep cups and glasses in the least accessible place in the kitchen, but then again, they obviously didn't keep them in the upper cabinets either. She would probably have to go searching in the damn drawers next.

Gaara moved quietly through the hallway. He paused at Sakura's door. It was slightly ajar, and he was tempted to look in, but again he felt shame encroaching on his mind. A small sound from down the hallway suddenly caught his attention. He lost interest in Sakura's door and continued on, cautiously and quietly. Somewhere, it seemed, a light was turned on. If it were an enemy, they would not have bothered turning on any lights, so he relaxed a bit. He kept moving, nearer and nearer. Someone was in the kitchen.

He heard a muffled curse word.

Apparently, someone angry was in the kitchen.

He rounded a corner and pushed quietly through the kitchen. His eyes adjusted to the light, and there she was.

There _it_ was.

Sakura's rear.

Sakura stiffened almost instantly, sensing the new presence as soon as it entered the room. Whoever the person was, they weren't saying anything, and Sakura became wary. Very slowly, she straightened, scanning the countertop for her defense options. Why had she left her shuriken in the bedroom? How could she have been so careless? A kunoichi should never go anywhere without some kind of weapon. Her eyes spotted a tall jar with several handles sticking out of it. If she moved quickly enough, she could throw one of the objects at the intruder, taking them by surprise and giving her a chance to find something else, preferably something sharp. She felt her heart rate increase as adrenaline flooded her body. _On three_, she instructed herself, _One, two…_

_Three!_ Sakura grabbed a random handle and threw it like a kunai at the intruder.

The wooden spoon connected with Gaara's forehead with a small _tuck_ and clattered uselessly to the floor. Surprised and shocked, Gaara fell backwards, landing hard on his back side. He stared up at the ceiling in confusion. One second he'd been admiring the true beauty of Mother Nature's grace and now suddenly he was on his back with a piercing pain shooting through his head. _Damn_.

"Gaara!"

Sakura couldn't believe what she'd just done. Or how she done it. No one ever landed a blow on Subaku no Gaara. She'd only ever witnessed it happen once or twice in her lifetime. She quickly rushed over to his side and stood over him. "Gaara? I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Gaara blinked several times and focused on her face. She looked worried, concerned, and it surprised him. He sat up with a groan, but said nothing else, and Sakura became increasingly worried.

She leaned over him, examining his head like any medic would. "I'm so, so sorry. I thought you were an intruder or something. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Gaara gruffed.

"Let me just check, okay?" Sakura rubbed her thumbs over the point of impact and Gaara grimaced, instinctively pulling away from the pain. "Hold still," she said quietly. With carefully measured breaths, Sakura focused tiny amounts of chakra at the point at which she'd hit him. Head wounds were extremely dangerous, and only the most skilled of medic nin were able to successfully use chakra to heal them. It was simply too risky to tamper with anything remotely near the brain or spinal cord, but Sakura knew what she was doing. There was no sign of blood or skull trauma, but she wanted to be absolutely sure. It was a big spoon, and she'd thrown it pretty hard.

Rubbing her fingers through his hair and over his kanji mark _was_ an added bonus, though.

Gaara felt a pinpoint of warmth on his forehead, and the pain began diminishing until it was nothing more than a dull ache. Sakura was focused on his head, but his eyes were left to wander. The last time they'd been this close, he and she, was last Saturday. He could feel her warmth and smell the sweetness of her skin, just like before, except this time there was no presence of alcohol. She was wearing hardly anything, just a pale pink tank top and light grey sleeping shorts. He gulped self-consciously, memories of his dream sparking back to life.

"Alright. I'm done." She sat back into a kneeling position. Gaara was disappointed to have her warmth recede. "I think you'll be fine." Gaara exhaled a sigh, secretly glad that she had smoothed over any bump or injury he might've had. If there had been any lasting consequences from that damn spoon, he would've never heard the end of it: _The Great __Kazekage, flattened by kitchen utensil._

"At least it wasn't a fork," he muttered with relief.

Sakura chewed on her lip, embarrassment clouding her features. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Where's your gourd? Isn't the sand supposed to protect you?"

Gaara's face became blank. "Must I always have it with me?"

Sakura immediately regretted her question. _How could I be so stupid?_ He hadn't even had his gourd on Sunday, when he cleared the training grounds, she suddenly remembered. It just seemed to be a part of him in some ways, but it wasn't her place to question its absence. She needed to change the subject.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked.

Gaara flicked her a sideways glance. He couldn't very well tell her that she'd played the leading female role in his sensual dream tonight. A sickening feeling of perversion washed over him, and he attempted to draw attention away from himself. "What are _you_ doing in here?" he countered.

Sakura looked taken aback, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I couldn't sleep," she explained, "I came down here to get a drink of milk."

Gaara tilted his head at gazed at her from an angle, still averting her question. "You were looking for milk in the bottom cupboards?"

Sakura's breath hitched and pink flooded her cheeks, mirroring her gently tousled hair. Gaara couldn't help but smirk. "I was looking for a cup!" she said defensively, "It's not my fault you don't keep them in any normal places!"

Gaara pushed himself off the floor, and Sakura stumbled backward before also scrambling to her feet. Without saying anything, Gaara opened the refrigerator and retrieved two glasses from inside the door.

Sakura simply stared as he closed the refrigerator door and handed her one of the chilly glasses. It was already fogging up from the heat of the room. "You keep your cups in the _fridge_?" she asked slowly.

Gaara shrugged. "I like my glasses chilled."

"_All _of them? All of your cups are in the refrigerator?"

Gaara looked as though he couldn't understand her disbelief. "Only three people live here."

Sakura felt like throwing another spoon at him.

The young Kazekage crossed the room and reached into a small hutch in the corner. He pulled out a short, wide bottle of amber liquid, popped the cork on top, and poured some into his glass. Sakura chewed her lip in confusion.

"You drink?" she asked.

Gaara glanced up as though surprised that she'd been watching him. He crossed back to the fridge, retrieved a handful of ice cubes from the freezer, and plopped them in his glass before saying, "Just because I refuse to go partying with my brother and sister doesn't mean I don't occasionally have a drink or two." He sent a barely-visible smirk in her direction, and Sakura nearly melted. She had already resolved to distance herself from this man as much as possible, and yet here he was, standing mere feet from her, wearing nothing but a thin, dark red robe and loose black pants. She could see his chest, rising and falling with every breath, see his muscles rippling when he turned to face her.

She exhaled a few short breaths and clutched onto her glass. The longer she looked at him, the less she could keep her thoughts in check. "Oh," said breathily, "That, um… that sounds reasonable."

Gaara was watching her intently. He could tell she was embarrassed by his appearance, but then again, she was wearing even less than he was. It seemed to be a miracle that he was still able to form coherent sentences while looking at her. _You're not trying to push her way anymore_, he reminded himself. _Be polite._

Gaara cleared his throat and looked off somewhere to his right so that he could not see her face clearly. Several moments passed in silence. They simply stood apart from each other, neither one looking at the other. Finally, Sakura took a deep, audible breath.

_You have to get out of here,_ she instructed herself. _Get your milk and leave, before you do something stupid. _"Well,' she said hesitantly, "I suppose I'll just, um, get my milk to-go." _Milk-to-go?_ Inner Sakura sneered, _So lame. You sounded so lame just then. _Sakura tried to edge toward the refrigerator, but Gaara was still partially angled in front of it. He tilted his head and gazed down at her, the dark rings of his eyes illuminating the green irises they surrounded. He looked as if he was pondering something, calculating, but Sakura didn't dare ask what it was.

After a long while, Gaara took a swig from his drink. He still wasn't looking at Sakura, but he leaned his shoulder against the fridge, thus blocking any chance of her actually retrieving her beverage. Sakura swallowed thickly and crossed her arms. It just wasn't fair how undeniably attractive the man was. Even just standing there with him in a kitchen felt inappropriate, especially when it proved a physical difficulty to draw her eyes away from any and every exposed bit of skin on his body. Was he toying with her? Could he somehow know what she was thinking? How could he see nothing wrong with their current situation? Two weeks ago, he probably would've sent her back to Konoha for rummaging through his kitchen in the middle of the night. He had simply despised her _that_ much. But now… now they were having a candid, half-naked conversation together, and she was struggling to fight down indulgent, dirty thoughts about him. What had changed?

"…me?"

Sakura blinked several times, suddenly registering the fact that Gaara's eyes were now locked on hers. Shit. He said something, and she'd been so busy being confused that she'd missed it. She uncrossed her arms and shook her head. It would be rude to admit that she had not been listening. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked apologetically.

Sakura watched Gaara's Adam's apple dip as he swallowed, eyeing her directly. "Are you sure," he spoke slowly, "that you want milk, or would you rather have a drink with me?"

Gaara took a slow steady breath to calm himself. He'd never invited a woman to join him for anything before. He felt a new, fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. Nervousness, he assumed. But he would not allow those feelings to show outwardly. He needed to appear confident, for he was testing Sakura now, testing to see what she would choose. If she was smart, she would refuse him, retrieve her milk, and return to her room. But that would be her decision. He did not order her to join him, no—he wanted to hear it for himself, wanted to hear her acceptance or refusal right there in front of him. Because having a drink with him, under the current circumstances, was more than a formality between allies, more than regulation between superior and underling. By inviting her to join him, he was breeching those boundaries once and for all. Gaara knew this. Sakura knew this. And she would be the determining factor.

Sakura gazed at him in awe. It could not be possible. Had she heard correctly? Her mind was screaming, _No, no, no!_ but her heart was begging otherwise. This was the exact opposite of her resolution. If she said yes now, it would be like selling her soul, giving into her attraction, only to have it ripped away in less than two weeks. Gaara couldn't know, couldn't possibly know what she was going through, or else he would not have offered. They had a very strict relationship, Kazekage and Leaf kunoichi. Yes, she had crossed a line on Saturday, but… but she had assumed that did not matter, in the long-run. Their formalities, their duties, their statuses had not changed.

This, however, had the capacity to alter all that.

And on the other hand, it could completely devastate any hopes Sakura had of a happy ending. What if she accepted? Enjoyed this night with Gaara, not as the Kazekage, but as himself, a young man? And what if he went back to ignoring her in the morning? Sakura felt it would be like having her heart wrenched out all over again. She would have to see him and look at him, give him progress reports daily, just as she had before, all the while knowing they had shared this moment and realizing that it meant nothing.

_Maybe you're just overreacting,_ Inner Sakura suggested. _People have drinks together all the time. It doesn't mean you're making any kind of lasting commitment, right? Maybe he's offering so you can finally resolve this big misunderstanding…_

Gaara held his breath while Sakura gaped at him. She seemed petrified. She had not moved since hearing his proposal. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks slightly pink, and her mouth open ever so slightly. Her lips were curved downward in shock or discontent—he didn't know. She didn't look pleased, and that was all that concerned him. But he waited patiently for her reply, still determined to hear a direct answer. At long last, she moved; she lifted the glass so that she was clutching it tightly with both hands and gazing down into its emptiness. Gaara knew then: she was going to say no. He pushed himself off the refrigerator and angled away from her, determined to conceal his disappointment. _I should have known better…_

"Alright."

Gaara turned back quickly. Sakura was looking straight at him, but the sea-foam green in her eyes revealed a storm of emotions. She looked unsure and hesitant, but he'd heard the words he needed to hear. Somehow, someway, he would find his middle ground, and he would show her that she had nothing to fear. He held out his hand, and Sakura gave him her glass, which he filled in the same way as his own.

"Thank you," Sakura muttered when he handed it back to her.

"You're welcome," he replied, "Come with me."

* * *

Aha!~ I finally figured out how to put it those stupid divider-line-things! ^^^

Now, I'm sure there's a good number of typos and grammar mistakes in this one. I tried to fish them all out, but I'm currently very tired. All this was written in a bit of a rush, so you'll have to excuse my fallbacks, I'm afraid.

Regardless, I do hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter is sure to be a fun one.

I'm excited. Are you?

R&R Please-

Olly


	11. Where Gaara Makes a Friend

Hello again, everyone!

Oh my goodness, I know it's been far too long. I do sincerely apologize. I'm afraid this chapter gave me a great deal of grief because it was so difficult to write—But I'll explain more about that at the bottom of the page where you're more likely to read it.

Go ahead! Get reading! You've earned it for waiting so patiently!

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

* * *

_This is insane!_

Sakura chewed on her bottom lip until it felt raw. Indistinguishable thoughts raged tumultuously through her mind, blurring her focus. Physical presence hardly mattered anymore; her surroundings—meaningless. Any practiced shinobi would've slapped her by now, for her naivety, for her lack of caution. But Sakura did not care. She did not care about all the rules she was breaking or the fact she was in unfamiliar territory, with an unfamiliar man. She didn't even give notice to which direction they turned and after how many steps, or the way in which they'd arrived at this small, cramped staircase. It was positioned more like a ladder, the kind of provisional staircase used by builders not to get to the top of something, but as a means of getting down once the something was built.

"Ready?"

The first words he'd said to her since they left the kitchen.

Sakura took a hesitant breath and nodded, fingers clutched tightly to her glass so as to hide the nervous shaking in her hands. She could feel the cool sweat from the glass seeping through the fibers of the hastily wrapped napkin around it in the same way that she could feel the real sweat trickling down the back of her neck. How had they made it here so quickly? It felt as though no time at all had passed since they'd met in the kitchen. All she could remember since then was watching the back of Gaara's head lead her upward through dark corridors and staircases that she did not recognize, as well as the occasional backward glance he allowed to make sure she was still following him.

Gaara gave her a look that was difficult to read in the darkness. With his drink in one hand, he stooped over and started up the shallow ladder-stairs, pausing only for a moment to push open a hatch at the top. Sakura caught a glimpse of a navy blue sky dotted with silver specks of light, while fresh moonlight spilled downward, bleaching the narrow staircase and stopping just in front of where she stood. She gulped. _The roof._

Gaara took the few remaining steps ahead and disappeared through gaping, oval hole. Before Sakura could blink, his face had reemerged and a single hand extended down into where she stood in the shadows. Several moments passed in which Sakura simply stared as his hand, the paleness of his skin in the moonlight and the way his red-embroidered sleeve dangled just below his wrist. _Why are you being so hesitant?_ Inner Sakura scolded. _Isn't this what you wanted?_

_It is._

Sakura pushed the stagnant air out of her chest and stepped into the light. The staircase was awkward, too shallow and too steep at the same time. Sakura could've handed Gaara her drink and tackled the slope on all fours, but she didn't want to lose the comfort of the glass in her hand. That drink was her only reminder of how real everything was: that it was more than just another dream about Gaara. She feared waking up and realizing the disillusion. This was real, this was _actually happening_, because Gaara had offered her a drink tonight. She would keep that drink with her at all times if it meant sustaining her lucidity.

Instead, she lifted her own hand to take his. The contact sent a jolt straight from her fingertips to her toes, lingering in the pit of her stomach where the butterflies were flocking. Sakura looked up quickly at the young man above her in just enough time to see his eyes flick from their hands to her face and then away again. But he gave her no time to ponder that moment. Sakura could barely contain her gasp of surprise as he lifted her upward, through the hatch, and onto the clay roof tiles. She stumbled a bit on the slanted surface but quickly regained her balance.

"Thank you," she said as she tucked a strand of pink behind her ear.

"Hn." Was her only response.

Gaara stepped carefully across the clay surface, feeling the familiar angle of the roof beneath his feet. He'd been here dozens of times, perhaps even hundreds, to come and stare out at the moon whenever the view from his window could not suffice. With the steady grace of a practiced warrior, Gaara eased into a sitting position with his knees angled outwards and his elbows rested atop them. He looked out and up at the moon, focusing on its bright face instead of the girl now slowly sitting down beside him to his right. She was so close that it was nearly unbearable—they weren't touching, no, but he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. _So damn close._

Sakura exhaled a breathy sigh, and Gaara looked over to find her with her head arched back, eyes gazing at the sky. She quickly glanced at him, embarrassed, and shrugged. "I've never seen so many stars," she explained hurriedly, and her eyes lifted skyward once more. "The sky is so open here. You can see every single star." In Konoha, the trees had always obscured her view of the night sky. One had to actually climb a tree all the way to its crown in order to see more than small patches. In the desert, the heavens were able to expand above and beyond for all to see.

Gaara felt the corner of his mouth tug ever so slightly, and he took a small sip of his drink. "Yes," was all he said.

Sakura looked to the man at her side and then down into the amber liquid in her glass. Gaara was such a confusing person. Two weeks ago, he hated her. Two weeks ago, anything he said to her was little more than condescending disapproval. Now they were sharing drinks on top of the Kazekage tower while gazing out over the skyline of Sunagakure. How strange life can sometimes be.

They sat in silence for a while, neither one bold enough to address the other. Gaara took measured, periodic sips from his drink. He would soon run out. Sakura sipped on hers as well, but only hardly as much as her companion consumed. Unaccustomed to straight liquor, the bitter taste burned her tongue and around her teeth and left a fluttery feeling of nausea in her stomach if she swallowed too much too quickly. She had hoped that alcohol would diminish her nerves a bit in the same way it had on Saturday night, but so far it felt as though it was only making her sicker. Gaara, on the other hand, seemed not affected in the least by the half-glass he'd already downed. Sakura figured he must drink more often than he let on.

And so they sat there together.

Sakura sipped.

Gaara sipped.

Sakura sighed.

Gaara took a moment to inwardly congratulate his skills in the art of deception. His breathing was even, his hands were steady. So far, there was nothing that threatened to visibly expose his inner anxiety. Not yet, anyways. He could hardly look at the woman beside him without remembering his indecent dream. He'd had enough clarity of mind to invite her to join him, to indulge in this surreal moment with her. And the effect was riveting, to say the least. This spot, this roof top, had always been a mark of his solitude. It was his refuge, his haven during dark times when he had no real companions. Now, with Sakura at his side, it took on a completely new significance. The view was the same, the landscape was the same, but suddenly with the introduction of Sakura's presence, the experience was altered completely. He was _sharing_ his haven with her: from that day forward, it would no longer belong to him alone. And what's more, Gaara accepted this fact—wanted it even. He _wanted_ to share it with her...

What a strange new feeling…

He watched his guest through corner of his eye, keeping his face angled outward so as not to alert her attention. She was being oddly quiet—Understandable, considering the circumstances. Although Gaara had already decided to put certain morals and responsibilities aside, it was likely that Sakura was still struggling internally with their current situation. Of course, it was no cake-walk for the young Kazekage, either, but so far, he'd been the one calling the shots. It made little difference that he didn't actually know what he was doing in regards to being hospitable. Sakura had merely agreed to participate. Gaara did know one thing, however: it was more likely than not that their night together would be short lived unless one person or the other initiated some kind of conversation. And from the look of things, Sakura was not volunteering herself. Gaara took another small sip of his drink, for courage. He cleared his throat a bit, but continued to look forward. _Just say something_, he commanded himself, _Anything_.

"So…How about that weather?"

And thus the silence was shattered.

Sakura laughed, and Gaara felt his chest constrict. Sure, his small-talk skills were—shall we say—_nonexistent_…but the tinkle of Sakura's laughter surprised and shocked him. It was a sound he had not expected to hear in his lifetime. Contrary to the tough, rugged façade she displayed as a working kunoichi, her laughter was refreshing and light. There were no snorts, honks, or any other sort of undesirable animal sounds. There was no screeching, hissing, or even any kind of strange rhythm to it. It was just a simple, open, honest laugh—modest, but hearty. It made the tension between their bodies dissipate for a moment, clearing the air. Gaara was able to glimpse, if only for a moment, into the woman behind the warrior. He saw her true smile break free, no longer hidden behind her insecurities. It was…beautiful.

"The weather?" Sakura chuckled. _What a way to break the ice, huh?_ Another bubble of laughter escaped, though this time smaller, as she repeated Gaara's question in her head. _But hey, at least he made an attempt. And what are you doing in response? Laughing at him? Nice, Haruno._ Sakura immediately quieted, suddenly ashamed of her outburst. "I'm sorry," she said, "I just… I'm sorry. I hadn't, um, expected you to talk about the…nevermind."

How could she sound like such a disrespectful idiot? Maybe it was the alcohol, finally settling in to tamper with simple mental functions like forming coherent sentences and knowing when to just shut the hell up. Gaara flicked her a sideward glance and ducked his head a bit. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. Talking business was easy. Discussing politics was cake. Trying to have a conversation with a barely-clothed, attractive young woman while sitting alone on a rooftop in the middle of the night with half a glass of liquor fogging his mind…?

Damn near impossible.

_You brought yourself into this, you fool,_ he inwardly scolded. _You wanted a second chance, did you not?_ _Do not let this opportunity be wasted! _Sakura had opened up, if only a small amount, at his previous attempt at conversation, but had immediately clammed back up afterward. Why was she so afraid? He needed to find something that could engage her fully, something she could finally feel comfortable with. Gaara looked up into the heavens again—searching for what, he did not know. A more appealing conversation topic, perhaps?

_What? Do you expect it to be spelled out in the stars or something? Idiot._

What would a woman like Sakura be interested in? He hardly knew her at all. Her village, her rank…old news. What kind of person was she really? Strong, obviously: mentally and physically. Loyal, as displayed by her devotion to her friends and village. Responsible, yes. Stubborn, definitely.

But what sort of things could the pair of them actually converse about?

"Gaara?"

He felt the air hitch in his throat when she said his name. He turned to look at her, taking in every detail of her pale porcelain features. She looked troubled, perhaps even upset. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

Gaara swallowed thickly. _Best to answer honestly, I suppose_. "I used to come here as a child," he explained, "I would come and watch the moon." Gaara hesitated for a moment, anticipating the revival of his inhibitions, but they did not come. He felt no embarrassment or intuitive caution at sharing this intimate detail with Sakura. Maybe it was because of the alcohol, or maybe it was something more. This woman, little though he may know about her, was not a threat and he felt no admonitory hesitance about speaking overtly with her. For once, just once, Gaara felt that he could relax his guard.

This time, Sakura did not laugh. She simply gazed at him inquisitively, as though she was not quite sure of his response. Gaara was being surprisingly open with her, and she did not know precisely how to react. Instead, she drew her knees up to her chin and followed his line of sight. "The moon _is_ beautiful tonight," she said finally.

"It's always beautiful," Gaara said quietly.

Sakura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and hugged her knees. _Beautiful_. It was odd to think that Gaara—cold, callous Gaara—found anything beautiful. _Don't be so shallow_, she cautioned herself. There was no reason why Gaara shouldn't find the moon beautiful. He was human, after all, regardless of any past split-consciousness. Sakura chewed on her bottom lip. What other sort of things would someone like Gaara consider _beautiful_?

_Keep your head clear, kid,_ Inner Sakura warned. But her curiosity did not wane. Why was he sharing these things with her? Something significant had shifted, but Sakura had yet to figure out what it was. "But why…" she paused, unsure whether or not to pursue the issue. Gaara turned his attention her, but she turned away, suddenly embarrassed again.

"What?" he inquired.

"Why would you bring _me_ here?" she asked quietly. She chose not to elaborate, silently hoping he would understand. Why would he share such private thoughts with _her_? What had _she_ done to induce his trust? It made no sense to her—she'd barely even seen him face-to-face, much less _talk_ to him, in days. Why her? Why this place? Why now?

Sakura watched as Gaara ran a single hand through his hair, momentarily revealing the mark on his brow. She traced every line with her eyes, memorizing its shape and outline. All too soon, it was once again hidden by the shag of his dark red hair. He closed his eyes and sighed, the black shading of his lids blending seamlessly into the rings around them and forming deep, ebony ovals against the perfection of his light-colored skin.

Why had he brought Sakura to this place, specifically? The longer Gaara thought about it, the less he understood it himself. He'd _wanted_ to, that much was certain. But he could not discern why. He'd had no plan tonight, no prior scheming involved. All he knew was that he'd hoped for another chance with Sakura, and when the fates had acted in his favor tonight, he had not hesitated. Since initially inviting her to join him in the kitchen, he'd acted completely on impulse. This is where he would've gone to drink alone, and so this was where he'd brought her with him. It felt natural, almost, and yet he'd never brought anyone else to this specific spot. As far as Gaara could figure, he'd been—as Kankuro would say—making it up as he went the whole time, from offering her a drink to attempting conversation. The truth of the matter was…well…Gaara really had no idea what he was doing.

But, prideful as the young Kazekage was, that was not something he would readily admit to anyone, leastways the one woman whose companionship he was trying to encourage. As a leader he was blunt and honest, but as a man? He felt the same insecurity as any man would feel when trying to impress an attractive young woman. He had to appear confident, in control, at all times.

But Sakura continued to gaze at him with that worried, unsure face, patiently awaiting his answer. What reason did he have in including her with this sentimental place? Why would he willingly allow her presence to encroach upon his precious solitude? Why would he bring _her_ here?

"Because."

Gaara immediately bit his tongue. _How old are you? Five?_

Sakura's shoulders slumped, and her features shifted from worry to blatant confusion. "Because?" she echoed, "You brought me here…_because_?"

Gaara's pride winced. Soon Sakura's confusion would turn to indignance, and he would deserve it. He'd been Kazekage for almost half a decade, and the best explanation he could manage was 'because'? _You really are a disgrace._

Suddenly Sakura bent her head downward, and her shoulders began to shake. Her hair escaped the hook behind her ear and swung down to shield her face from him. Gaara watched in dismay. What was happening? Was she… He gulped… Was she _crying_? He would never forgive himself.

He opened his mouth to try and console her, but he was cut off by a new sort of sound. Small bursts of laughter began to escape and grow with intensity, but it was not the same sort of warm laughter he'd heard earlier. It was too short, too…bitter. Sakura finally lifted her face, and Gaara could finally see the expression on her face. It was not light and happy, as it had been when she laughed before. The corners of her mouth were tilted upward, but her eyes revealed the truth within. She looked distressed and defeated. Why this sudden change? What had he done? Gaara could think of nothing to say as she continued laughing.

Sakura finally began to calm down, and she placed a hand over her mouth. The irony was simply too much to take anymore. Gaara was, undoubtedly, the most confusing person she'd ever met. _Who are you? _she wanted to ask. _What_ _have you done with the Kazekage?_ This just couldn't be the man she'd encountered on her first day in Suna, it just… _couldn't_ be. In an attempt to drown out her confusion, Sakura took an uncharacteristically large gulp of her drink. Her lucidity, as well as her taste buds, protested, and she had to gather all her willpower to swallow it down. It felt like acid burning down her throat and even into her stomach. She coughed and rolled her body partially to the side, praying for the liquor to stay down. She could not imagine what would happen if she puked, except for the fact that everything would suddenly be ruined. A small, slowly diminishing part of her sanity wanted that to happen. At least that way it would prevent this conversation from escalating any further, prevent her from making any more destructive decisions. If she got sick then and there, she would have to go back down to her bed and pretend that this… this moment…had never happened. It was unlikely that Gaara would mention it again, so she could just go about her life pretending that it had never actually happened, that it was only her imagination, that it was a dream.

_No!_ Inner Sakura screamed. _Please, just once, just this once, please just go with it._ Sakura's eyes widened. _Please just give in to it…_ She could feel the bile rising in her throat, and for a frightening moment, she felt as though she would not be able to stop it. _I'm sorry, _she whispered in her mind.

A large warm hand closed on her shoulder. Sakura felt a jolt of shock and she sucked in a breath of cool air. The sick feeling within was pushed backward. All the warmth retreated from her head and face. She turned quickly to look at Gaara. His eyes were wide, stark white against the black rings of his eyes. He'd never anticipated such a reaction. She'd swallowed at least half of her drink. "Sakura…?" he asked quietly. She looked even paler in the moonlight than she had before. The young woman blinked several times at him, still half-way turned away. She finally flicked her gaze down at his hand on her shoulder, and he slowly retracted it. Sakura shuddered and straightened her back, slowly pulling her knees toward her chest. She refused to look at him again.

_What were you thinking? _She berated herself,_ Are you insane?_

_Maybe._

Gaara's voice drew her back to the moment. "Sakura?" he said again. "Are you… alright?"

Sakura scoffed. "Yes, I'm fine," she answered curtly. Gaara scowled and turned away. Why was she suddenly being so harsh to him? A hazy memory suddenly sparked to life: Maybe it was because of the drink… He'd wondered before what type of drunk Sakura was. Perhaps she was an angry drunk, after all. But Gaara's thoughts were quickly interrupted as Sakura shifted at his side.

She placed her drink beside her carefully so it would not slide on the slanted surface and hugged her knees tightly. "I just," she began and stopped. She bit her lip and shook her head slowly, her pink hair swinging back and forth. "I just don't understand…" She sighed. Gaara remained silent, fearing she would discontinue her thoughts if he interrupted her. She tucked her hair back hastily and turned to face him.

"You," she finally finished, "I don't understand you. At all."

Gaara didn't know whether or not to feel relieved. She still looked extremely upset and distressed, but at least she wasn't leaving, and she didn't seem to be physically sick anymore. Perhaps Sakura was waiting for a response, because she only seemed to become more flustered when he said nothing. She ran a hand through her hair. "You are just so…so… I mean you say things that… And I never know if you're just…You just act so differently from day to day…But then sometimes it's as if… And I can never tell if…"

Damn. Of all the times for speech coherency to abandon her…

She slammed a fist down in frustration, accidentally cracking several tiles. She jolted backward in surprise. "Shit!" she cried, "I'm—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I—"

"It's fine," Gaara said quietly. He knew she could've very easily punched a hole through the roof if she'd really wanted to. A few cracked tiles was nothing. He only wished he could understand why she was suddenly so upset. Her babbling was, dare he think it, _cute_, but it still worried him. He knew it was somehow his fault, but he couldn't comprehend what he'd done.

Sakura sighed again, this time more wearily. She again pulled her knees close and rested her chin on them. _Just say it. It's only going to bother you and get worse until you confront him._ She chewed on her lip nervously. "You confuse me," she eventually whispered, so quietly that Gaara could barely hear her.

"When I first came here, you wanted to send me back. Now you tell me to call you by your first name, and you invited me to have drinks with you, and you've brought me to this place that you said you used to visit as a child. It must be special to you, at least a little bit. And I've been so stressed lately, trying to figure it all out, and…" Her chin slid downward, concealing most of her face beneath her knees. Gaara could hardly understand her when she said, "I've just decided to give up trying."

Gaara inhaled and exhaled slowly. So that was it. He assumed that she simply didn't want to breach the topic of Saturday, and so he wouldn't mention it either. In truth, he really didn't know who should be blamed: himself for inadvertently becoming attracted to a woman he shouldn't have, his siblings for their conniving scheme, or Sakura for agreeing to participate.

But in the end, did it really matter all that much whose fault it was? The current issue was more pressing, more important. He had not realized how much Sakura was struggling internally… It seemed as though she was experiencing just as much emotional turmoil as he had been recently… That was an interesting thought in and of itself, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. Right now, he simply wanted her pain to end. He didn't care about his own troubles. Above all else, he wanted to help _her_.

Another interesting thought…

Gaara forced himself to focus. He angled himself slightly more toward her. "I did not realize… Have you really been struggling so much with this? Is that really how you feel?"

Sakura was startled by the question. She lifted her head so that her eyes could meet his. His face was expressionless, save for a hint of something in his eyes. The deep green irises nearly looked black in the dimly-lit nighttime, and she longed and instead to gaze upon their usual emerald hue. Something was stirring within them, something she had not expected to see in her lifetime: Gaara looked… _concerned_ for her. At least, that's what it felt like. She turned her head away to conceal the pink in her cheeks. "Well," she began, "Well, I don't know. There's just a lot of things that have happened… I guess I feel…" She couldn't look at him, couldn't let herself see his face right then, or she knew she would've lost it. She would tell him anything in that moment, even the way she felt about him. Her brain sifted quickly, looking for a way to explain her feelings, and she suddenly came across an idea.

"I suppose I feel like a paper star," she finished quietly. _A paper star? Really?_ Sakura bit her lip to stifle a groan. She couldn't believe how childish and cliché that sounded. She hadn't made paper stars since she was little. How had she suddenly remembered them now? But regardless, Gaara was completely attentive.

"A paper star?" he inquired.

Sakura turned to face him again. "Sure. You know you make a paper star?" No matter how she said it, she still felt silly for comparing herself to a child's pastime. "Well, I suppose that's how I feel."

Gaara stared at her for a moment. Slowly, he said, "And…how is that, exactly?"

The young kunoichi gave him an incredulous look, but it soon melted into shock as she realized that he was serious. Sakura thought everyone knew how to make paper stars. It was just one of several decorations used in any of the festivals in Konoha, the kind little children are taught to make. Growing up, Sakura always felt they weren't even the most special of the paper ornaments. Unlike cranes that could flap their wings or lanterns that could fly away with a candle inside, stars were the easiest to fold and the least exciting once they were finished. All you could really do once they we folded was fill up a bowl with them or hang them from a string. But even so, _everyone_ knew at least how to make them.

Sakura could no longer remember when she'd first learned how to fold a star, or who had taught her the supposedly comforting little tale behind it. Perhaps a grandparent, or her mother, or a teacher—It didn't matter. Could it be that these types of children's stories were not taught in Sunagakure? Was it just a silly tradition reserved within the village boundaries of Konoha? Or was it just Gaara alone? He'd been robbed of a real childhood… Maybe no one thought to teach him.

Suddenly very determined, Sakura picked up her glass and carefully peeled the napkin from it. There was very little of the paper left that had not yet been soaked through by the sweat of the glass. Gaara watched as Sakura slowly and carefully unfolded and folded the paper until it became a single long, thin strip. "Okay," she said quickly, "Everything was fine at first. My life was heading in the exact direction it was supposed to. But then…"

She took one end of the strip and pulled it inwards, forming a delicate loop, "My thoughts got all turned around in a direction I wasn't expecting…"

She took the other end of the strip and pulled it through the loop, forming a flat, pentagonal knot at one end. "I got tangled up in something shouldn't have, and there was no way to undo it."

She began to fold the tail over the sides of the knot, over and over again. "Everything began to pile up: the thoughts in my head, the things that I said and did. It just kept getting worse and worse."

She finally reached the end of the tail and tucked it between two layers of the knot. "This is me now," she said quietly, holding the little flat pentagon between two fingers.

Gaara gazed in confusion. He'd never seen someone make a paper star before, but—quite honestly, he felt a bit duped. "It doesn't look like a star," he muttered.

Sakura chuckled and rolled her eyes, a sight that made Gaara's chest constrict ever so slightly. "Well that's because that's not the end of the folk-tale." She graced him with a small sad smile before continuing, "This is how _I_ feel right _now_. As the story goes," she carefully balanced the pentagon between two fingertips, "If you push in the right places, talk to the right people, get involved in the right kinds of things…" With the tip of one finger, she pushed into one of the sides of the paper shape. It bent inward, a little awkwardly, pushing the center of the pentagon outward. She continued to the next side, and then the next, pinching the corners as she went along. When she finished, she looked up at Gaara. "In the end," she said, "supposedly, everything will turn out right." She held her hand up, and Gaara placed his below, open for reception. She let the little wad of paper fall into his palm. For a moment, he could not see any sort of distinguishable shape, but he began to examine it closer. Sakura was right! It may have been a bit poorly crafted, and it certainly wasn't the best sort of paper used, but when he looked at the right angle, he could see the outline of a bulbous, little five-point star.

Gaara continued to gaze it for a moment. He'd never seen something like this before; it was so small in the palm of his hand. He moved slowly for fear of dropping or crushing it. He continued examining the little star even as Sakura said, "So, um, yeah. That's how you make a paper star. Now you know."

"I did not know," Gaara said quietly, still looking at the star, "That this was how you felt."

"Well it doesn't really help since I still don't understand anything that's going on," she muttered bitterly. A breeze blew by, and she shivered. She'd not realized how cool it was until now, perhaps because it felt as though all the warmth had been drained from her body after spending time with this cool, callous man. She'd practically spilled out her heart to the guy, nix the part about her attraction to him, and he'd only responded with silence or sarcasm. It was like he was sending her mixed signals: _Here, allow me to show you one of my favorite childhood hideaways and toy with your emotions, but you can't ask why I'm doing it, because I won't tell you. _Why, why, why did he insist on being so exhaustingly distant and confusing?

Gaara looked to his side as another cool breeze whispered by. It ruffled through his hair and robe, hardly affecting him, but he watched as a shudder raked through the body of his guest. He had not considered how cold it would be up here for Sakura. She was wearing barely anything, after all. Why had he forgotten to consider that? _Idiot,_ he scolded himself, _now she's upset __**and**__ cold._ Perhaps he could address both issues at once.

Gaara set down his drink, stood, and slipped the paper star in an inside pocket of his robe for safekeeping. Sakura watched in confusion as the young man above her shrugged the garment from his shoulders and down his arms. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a quick breath, unable to draw her gaze from his partial nakedness. His skin practically glowed in the moonlight. He was beautiful, his upper body sculpted with lean muscles and unmarred by scars. She wanted to run her fingers over the very topography of his body, memorize every groove, feel the heat pulsating under his skin… _You're staring,_ her mind registered. Gaara did not seem to notice as he untwisted the cloth so that it was facing open away from himself. _Stop staring!_

Sakura tore her gaze away and tried to focus on anything but the man beside her. A sudden, heavy warmth engulfed her from behind, and her head snapped back up in time to see Gaara's hands retreating from her shoulders. Her eyes felt as though they would bulge from their sockets. His robe… He'd just given her his robe. Her spine snapped straight and she suddenly felt very small underneath the weight of the cloth. A small ember of her sanity, barely present after her recent drinking binge, suddenly sparked back to life. "Nonononononono—" she stuttered. This was too much…too much to handle at once. This was breaching all kinds of moral taboos. "I—I can't take this—"

"Please," Gaara said quickly, but firmly. "Take it. You're cold."

"No," she said again, and the word cracked on her voice. "I shouldn't wear this—it's yours—" She pulled the robe off one of her shoulders and inhaled sharply as the cold air pierced her skin. It felt so much colder now that she'd experienced actual warmth.

"Sakura,"

She froze with one shoulder still exposed. His voice suddenly sounded gruff and dark, as though he was cautioning her from something. She tried to search for his eyes, but they were hooded underneath the shadow of his hair line. Gaara could not help but stare. There she was sitting next to him, his sleeping robe draped over her slender frame, with the moon illuminating her delicate skin and her eyelashes casting slender shadows down her cheeks. Her one bare shoulder was angled towards him, so tantalizingly close. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and hear his heart pounding in his ears. Oh, how he wanted this woman to be his—

_Focus!_ His mind roared.

Now was not the time for such thoughts. Right now, Sakura was upset and frightened, two emotions he never wanted her to feel as a result of him. He needed to explain to her, somehow, without revealing his true feelings just yet. There was no way in heaven that his desires could be realized—Gaara knew and accepted this. But if he could not have Sakura as his…as his woman… Then he at least wanted to have a benevolent relationship with her, even if it was only a distant friendship. Very few people had been able to break through his wall of solitude during his lifetime, but if ever someone did, he did not want to lose them.

How could he express this to her, though? So badly did he want Sakura to understand, and yet he could think of no way to tell her. With Naruto, all it had taken was an understanding nod and a handshake. Women, he was coming to realize, were much more complicated. He gazed up at Luna, silently begging for her help, but his white-faced friend was silent tonight, and he was at a loss for words. _Perhaps,_ he wondered, _it would be best to start with an apology…_

He cleared his throat and forced his line of sight away from her, out over the buildings of his city so that he could not see the expression on her face. Slowly and quietly, he said, "I am… sorry… that you have been so upset recently. I understand that I am the one at fault." Sakura's jaw dropped in disbelief. She could not believe what she was hearing. Gaara continued formally, as though he was addressing a political briefing. It was too difficult to articulate his feelings otherwise: "I know that, upon your arrival in Suna, there was a certain…_animosity_ between us. And it was not my intention to cause you further distress in the past few days…"

He sighed quietly and turned to face her. "Having you call me by my first name and inviting you here with me…" He paused, struggling for the right words, "I am trying to alleviate that animosity, if you'll allow me the chance."

Sakura's jaw clicked shut of its own accord, and she simply stared at the man in front of her. Could this really be happening? Was she hearing him correctly? Amidst all those big words and unnecessary formality, Gaara's message was clear:

"You…want to be…_friends_?" she asked hesitantly. Gaara blinked several times and slowly nodded. Sakura's eyebrows stretched to somewhere high on her forehead, and she tilted her head to the side. "Oh."

_Well, that's interesting,_ Inner Sakura chirped, _I thought he hated me._ She suddenly felt heat rising in her face and her heart rate increase. _This could be dangerous, _Sanity warned, _This could lead you to bad decisions, a broken heart. You should refuse him and walk away. Do you duty as a shinobi—_

_Fuck off!_ Inner Sakura snapped.

Sakura gulped self-consciously. Why did it always feel as though she had to choose between her brain and her heart? It was as if they would forever be locked in battle, always testing her emotions with compromise. This time, though, her heart was winning, pushing Sanity further and further out of her mind. Shyly, she pulled the edge of the robe back over her bare shoulder and pulled it tighter around her for emotional support. Gaara only wanted to be friends, nothing more than that. _I think I can handle a friendship…right?_

She took a shaky breath to prepare her response. "Well…" she said, "Okay."

Gaara's beautiful shoulders relaxed as though he'd been holding his breath, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Sakura's lips. The wall of tension had suddenly toppled between them, and everything immediately felt sharper. The air tasted crisper, the moon shone brighter, and the chill of the night stung a bit harder. Sakura, now thankful for the warmth of Gaara's robe, pulled her arms through the sleeves and tucked it more securely around her. "Thank you, by the way," she said awkwardly, "For this, I mean."

She received an affirmative grunt.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked. Now that she was wearing his top garment, his entire torso was now exposed to the bitter chill.

Gaara leaned backward on his elbows as though he were sunbathing, his muscles rippling underneath his nearly-translucent skin. "No," he answered, though the perk of his dark nipples gave him away.

"Liar," Sakura said before she could stop herself. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth and looked away in embarrassment. It took only a moment for Gaara to realize what she meant, but he only chuckled quietly, secretly flattered that she'd been watching him at all.

"Would you rather I take my robe back?" he asked tauntingly.

"No," Sakura pouted. Even in the moonlight, he could see a slight hint of pink in her cheeks.

He smirked. He would gladly bare the chill of the desert nighttime if it meant Sakura was wearing his robe. That lovely sight, he decided, was more than enough incentive.

Gaara fell silent for a long while, and Sakura resolved to not disturb him. He acted as though a great weight had been lifted from his body, and he looked more content and relaxed than she seen him during her entire stay in Suna. Sakura felt a disturbingly strong desire to lie down next to him, but it seemed like _too_ friendly an act. To distract herself, she instead resolved to examine the robe he'd given her. It felt deceivingly heavy on her shoulders, despite how thin the material was. The texture was smooth to the touch, like suede, and the edges were rimmed with a thin strip of soft, black leather. The blood-red embroidery design was beautiful: a geometric design portrayed with vines and leaves twisting in elegant swirls and shapes. The thread was so fine that she could barely feel it beneath her fingertips and the inside was lined with a thick red silk that felt smooth and worn against the bare patches of her skin. And the smell—Oh, she wanted to lock away the sent in her memory forever. Warily, she tucked her nose under the collar and breathed deeply, absorbing the aroma of musk, hay, and even a hint of sanded wood. It made her feel warm and safe, a comforting scent.

"Sakura?"

His voice startled her. She felt like a criminal, caught in the act of enjoying something that wasn't hers to enjoy. "Yes!" she squeaked, "What? Oh, I was just, um, thinking."

Gaara cocked his head at angle, clearly disbelieving. He brought his arms above his head and laid back against them, his torso now completely stretched out against the roof tiles. Sakura gulped and proceeded to fiddle with the edge of one of the sleeves on the robe. The barely-visible stitching quickly became the most interesting thing in the world.

After a moment of quiet, Gaara finally spoke up again. "What were you thinking about?" he asked.

Sakura continued to decipher the stitching pattern. There was only one question in her mind left gaping and unanswered, but to bring it up might ruin the delicate balance they'd finally reached. When Sakura did not respond, Gaara shifted his gaze back to her. She was hesitating, purposely ignoring his question, and it only made his curiosity worsen. They'd at last lifted most of the tension in their situation, and yet Sakura was still reserved. Like a surrendered creature in the animal kingdom, Gaara had stretched himself out in a most vulnerable position. It was something he'd never done before in the presence of another person, let alone a ninja. His torso was entirely exposed before her without any kind of protection. It went against his very nature as a warrior, as a shinobi, and yet it also brought upon him a feeling of relief. It was foolish, perhaps—hasty and naïve—but something about this woman relaxed him. He stretched the aching muscles in his body, extending himself to his full length and enjoying the remnants of the sun-baked warmth of the tiles on his back. Sakura, however, was the complete opposite. She remained encased in a ball of insecurity, her knees pulled inward to her chin, her shoulders angled forward and slightly away from him. She was obviously still uncomfortable.

Frustrated, Gaara pulled his arms across his chest and scowled. What was he doing wrong? Despite all his efforts to be congenial and discover Sakura's personal troubles, she was still insecure with him. Perhaps he was being too trusting, taking things too far. He had little experience in the art of forming friendly relationships, but he couldn't think of a reason why she refused to open up to him anymore. It felt like she was comfortable enough to let her troubles be known, but not enough so that he could mend the rift between them. What were friends for if not to mutually enjoy the other's company and to have someone to confide in?

Gaara sighed in defeat. Maybe that was the best he could get, after all. Friendship was not something he could force upon this woman, never mind romance. Treacherous thoughts and feelings of having her to hold and enjoy as his own would never be more that just that: thoughts and feelings. It would most likely take years to persuade any true sort of friendship between them, to gain Sakura's confidence, and Gaara had merely days. _Stop your sulking and simply enjoy what you have now,_ he thought, _before she's gone again._

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the man beside her. He had shifted his position; his strong, lean arms were no longer stretched behind his head. They were instead crossed over his chest, shielding its splendor from her view. He suddenly looked troubled once more. To see his contentment so quickly retreat made her chest ache. What had happened? Only a moment ago he'd looked so calm and at ease. She wanted to reach out and touch him, console him.

Unsure of what to do, she asked, "Gaara?"

Gaara inhaled a breath and closed his eyes. "Hm?" he responded on a sigh.

"Are _you_ alright?" Sakura asked quietly.

He cracked an eye open and one corner of his mouth twitched upward. "I'm fine," he replied and closed his eye again.

Sakura ground her teeth together and glared at him. He was obviously not _fine_, but he'd refused to share that with her. She was only trying to help. What a frustrating man! It was like he deliberately chose to talk with her during moments in which she was unprepared, but if _she_ tried to initiate conversation, he would clam up and refuse to engage!

Frazzled, Sakura growled and 'hmphed'. A moment later, however, a new sound caught her attention and she turned to see Gaara's torso bouncing lightly up-and-down. His eyes were still closed, but his lips were tilted upward into gentle sort-of smirk, and a deep, rumbling sound seemed to be emanating from the depths of his chest. Sakura could only stare and listen in amazement. Gaara was _laughing_—lightly, yes, for it was little greater than a chuckle, but it was definitely a laugh.

A smile crept into Sakura's lips, and she could not help but give a small chuckle herself. Gaara's laughter was such a surprising and hearty sound that she could not help but join him. She watched as his eyes reopened and he shifted again so that he was resting on his elbows, gazing at her. He looked even more handsome with that small smile playing on his features, bringing a lightness to his dark eyes. "Why are you laughing?" Sakura asked as the bubble of giddiness began to recede.

Gaara flicked his head so his hair wasn't shielding his eyes. "You," he answered plainly. "That sound you made was—" _Adorable._ "—Funny."

Sakura simply stared at him, waiting for her pride to take a hit. If anyone else had told her that, anyone at all, Inner Sakura would have instantly retaliated. But her volatile inner consciousness was strangely silent in that moment, quietly gushing as though she'd received some kind of monumental compliment. Gaara seemed to have a strange effect on Inner Sakura, so much so that she seemed to be taking more and more hold on the rational parts Sakura's mind. She no longer cared how dangerous or pivotal this moment might become in the future. Instead, she blushed and smiled back at Gaara, suddenly living only for the moment. _It was a sort of compliment, I suppose,_ she thought shyly, _After all, how many people have actually heard this man laugh, seen this man smile? I should feel privileged…_

_Now you're gettin' the idea, Sister,_ Inner Sakura whispered.

For a long while, Gaara and Sakura simply looked at each other, silently enjoying their brief instance of pleasantry. They continued to smile at nothing, really, except the mutual feeling of disarmament. Sakura no longer felt unsure of their situation: she'd resolved to simply enjoy it. She had nothing to fear of this man. For weeks, now, she'd wished that he would disband his tyrannical reign over her life, and now that he had, she had no reason to treat him with distrust. She had no reason, coincidentally, to withhold her questions, either.

With a shy smile, Sakura began examining the robe again, unsure of whether or not she wanted to see his expression when she asked her question. "I'm…I'm very happy now that we're friends," she spoke softly, "But why the sudden change?"

Gaara's smile faded, and he cocked his head to the side. Why would she ask such a question? Surely she knew the answer, so why would she ask him to say it? It was the one subject which neither of them had ventured to speak about. Gaara feared the destruction of their newly-found friendship if they spoke about it, but then again, only minutes ago he'd thought Sakura would never open-up to him. All it had taken was a laugh, and her façade of icy distrust had melted away. Perhaps it was a necessary evil: they needed to speak openly about it before it grew into something worse. A rocky friendship like theirs would not last if they continued to ignore it.

"Why do you think?" he retorted, so quietly that it was little more than a whisper. Sakura glanced up at him, her smile gone. She knew Gaara's question was not meant to be sarcastic—everything had suddenly become very serious. She nodded slowly.

"Saturday," she whispered, "The kiss—" She stopped to correct herself, "The kissing lesson."

Of course that would be it. She needn't have asked. That was the pivot-point, the ice-breaker. That was the reason Gaara had been so much kinder to her. But a part of her wished that that kiss had not been the reason, and it suddenly made her feel somewhat sad to finally acknowledge it: If she had not gone drinking with Temari and Kankuro, if she had not agreed to their ridiculous idea, Gaara would still hate her. What if she had not agreed? What if they had found some other woman to give him a kissing lesson? Would he have turned his good graces on _her_? Asked _her_ to call him by his first name? Invited _her_ to have drinks with him in the middle of the night? Given _her_ his sleeping robe to wear? It made no difference to Sakura that Gaara knew about the lesson, or that it had happened only four days ago. So much had changed in so little time, it was difficult to imagine that it could not have happened to some other woman. Sakura was not special. She had just been in the right place, at the right time, to be offered the proposition.

Gaara could see the emotions racing across Sakura's features, but he was helpless to know what was thinking. He did not want memories of that kiss, or _lesson_, rather, to make her look so sad. He was glad for the change that had come over their relationship because if it, not depressed. He quickly had several questions of his own. Why was she suddenly so upset? Did she truly hold distaste for the reminder of kissing him? If so, then why…

"Sakura," he said sternly, drawing her from her thoughts, "Why did you agree to do it?" He had to know the truth, beyond his sibling's original scheme. She could've said no if she'd wanted to, and they could've been in the same positions they were a week ago. Surely he would still have thoughts about her, and perhaps even feelings for her, but he would not have decided to embrace some of those feelings had Sakura not done what she did. That kiss had given him hope, even if it was in the guise of a lesson. If Sakura did not feel the same way, then what motives would she have for submitting?

Sakura's eyes became wide. Gaara looked rigid and hard, almost as though he was angry. Why would he be angry now, of all times? "I'm—I'm sorry?" she squeaked. She wasn't prepared for his sudden anger.

"You are…sorry," he repeated darkly, "I see."

"Nonononono!" Sakura angled herself towards the man and lifted her hands in a calming manner. "That's not what I meant—"

Gaara glanced quickly up at her. "You're not sorry?"

"No! I mean—I don't know! Just—Argh!" She brought her hands to her temples and growled, trying to force her memories to realign. Why _had_ she agreed to kiss this damn man? Why? _Only chance…_ No, no. That would give away too much about her own feelings. What was it that Temari and Kankuro had told her…?

A burning feeling engulfed her thoughts and spread down, down into her chest. Jealousy, she recognized. _Ah yes,_ her mind snapped_, That's why…_

"You like someone," she whispered, without looking at Gaara. "Kankuro and Temari told me. You like someone, some…woman, but you weren't going to pursue her. The…," she growled, "…_lesson_ was meant to give you confidence, a better idea of what you were up against, in case… in case you _did_ decide to pursue."

Sakura let her hands drop, and she turned away from him. _So that's what they told her…_he thought. Suddenly he wished they would've just told her the truth, because now he was stuck in a lie. He didn't know how to tell Sakura that _she_ was the woman he wanted—and what good would it do him? She would most likely react in disgust. After all, he'd had to coax every single bit of damn friendship out of this woman; it was like she didn't want to be that close to him, like she was avoiding him. He glowered with shame. _Typical_.

And then again, what if he was wrong? What if she did accept him in return? A spark of hope simmered in his chest, and his face relaxed. The situation would be too sticky—he _could_ not leave his village, she _would_ not leave hers. Already a month-long mission was trying on her. He could not imagine asking her to leave her home and stay here in Suna. Theirs was a romance doomed, either way.

Perhaps what his siblings did was best. He knew, despite their schemes and ridiculous personal habits, that they had his best interests at heart. Telling Sakura the truth would only hurt her and hurt him more. Maybe he could preserve what he had now by following in what his brother and sister had started…no matter how much it pained him. At the very least, he would still have this time to share with Sakura.

"Yes," he finally said, "There is a woman I am interested in."

Sakura felt every hair on her body stand straight. Inner Sakura had planted thoughts and hopes in her head, and she felt them shatter in an instant. The shards twisted and sank until they'd burrowed deep in her chest, like little ice daggers in her heart._ Of course, you idiot,_ Sanity returned,_ Why on earth would __**ever**__ think that woman was you? He only wanted to use you for the benefit of __**her**__!_

"Sakura?"

She felt a shudder run down her back and she took a deep, long breath. _You can't let him see,_ she reminded herself,_ You can't let him know how upset you are. _She chewed on her lip and blinked several times, warding off any tears that had any thoughts of jumping. "I'm happy for you," she responded through grit teeth, "I hope everything works out."

"Yes," Gaara said quietly. He could not understand why she suddenly would not face him. "I hope so too." He spoke mechanically, knowing anything he said was a lie. He had lied before in the past, but he did not like lying to Sakura. He gazed in longing as another breeze rustled by, making her pink, petal-like hair dance. Desire burned inside him, churning with the guilt that was already present. How could he want this one woman so badly? And how could he satisfy that desire without hurting either one of them? He wanted to taste her again, feel her heat on his skin, but it was impossible… Sakura was too proud a woman. Since she now believed that he wanted another, she would never allow him that chance again…

_Unless…_

"Sakura,"

The woman in question turned slightly in the direction of her addressor. He was gazing out over the village, the pale moonlight illuminating every sinew of his body. It felt like a sin just to look at him. "I have a favor to ask of you, if you will permit me," he said.

Sakura turned more towards him. _A favor?_ "What sort of favor?" she asked warily, trying to conceal the broken edge in her tone.

Gaara slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, mirroring a more-relaxed version of her own stance. "I realize now that Saturday was, at the very least, rather trying for the both of us." Sakura chewed on her lip and waited patiently for him to continue. With slow, measured movements, Gaara retrieved his nearly empty glass, examined the remaining contents, and downed all that was left. With a slight grimace, he set the empty glass down. "I am curious if you might allow me…"

He trailed off, and Sakura pursed her lips. "Allow you what?"

Gaara finally turned his dark-ringed gaze on her, igniting new flames in the pit of her stomach. "Allow me another lesson?"

Sakura's mind reeled. _What?_ Sanity screeched, _No, no, no! Absolutely not! How dare he even ask! What does he take you for anyway?_

_A teacher, apparently,_ Inner Sakura groaned.

Sakura took a gasp of air and looked away. There they were again, her head and her heart, the angel and the devil on her shoulders, always fighting for dominance over her thoughts.

_The nerve of him!_

_He wants you to kiss him again!_

_What are you, a piece of meat?_

_C'mon, live a little!_

_Think of the consequences!_

_Consequences, shmonsequences!_

_Stop!_ She wanted to cry out. Four little words and her mind was on a rampage. Yes or no? Go or stop? Why would Gaara ask such a favor? Hadn't she explained only moments ago how upset she'd been because of their last 'lesson'? And now he was asking her to put herself through all that stress all over again! _He's asking you as friend, _Inner Sakura chirped,_ You don't want to seem rude, do you?_ Well, no, she didn't. But what would it spell out for her future? She'd enjoyed that last kiss, perhaps a little too much, and it had brought her nothing but confusion and pain.

_It brought you here, though, didn't it? It brought you a new companion, a new friendship. It brought you his trust. He wouldn't ask for another lesson if he didn't trust you, right? This is a good thing._

A good thing?

She hardened her gaze. "Why?"

Gaara did not move, did not even blink. "I understand. Your refusal is entirely acceptable."

"I didn't refuse anything!" she snapped, "I just want to know why."

Gaara gazed at her inquisitively. "Why would I want another lesson?" he asked. Sakura gave him a hard stare. "Well, when a student has learned all he can from his master, he graduates on to something higher, yes? As my sensei, Sakura, do you believe I am ready to graduate?"

Damn him.

She didn't want to be this man's sensei. If he put her name and that suffix in close conjunction again, she felt she might actually be sick. She could tell him 'yes' and leave it at that, but he would know she was lying. Of course he wasn't ready to _graduate_, as he put it: the idiot had barely moved when she kissed him. He'd claimed to have known about their session even though she hadn't announced it, but if based solely on his body language, Sakura guessed he'd actually had no prior knowledge. Yet regardless of all the loose ends surrounding their current situation, Inner Sakura was clawing at the insides of her mind, urging, even begging for her to accept. She'd never in her lifetime wanted something so badly; This second chance felt like a forbidden fruit. She'd already tasted the ambrosia once. To taste it again could be deadly.

With a final sigh, Sakura surrendered. What did it matter anymore? She'd already come this far. Her feelings for this man were ever-present and growing, but they would never blossom into anything true. They would remain feelings only. What difference did it make if she finally stopped trying to suppress them?

"No," she said on a quivering voice, "I would not say that you are ready."

"So you agree that I am in need of more instruction?"

"Yes."

"I see." He tilted his head and smirked. "I am grateful for your honesty."

"Hm," was all she said. If she was going to go through with this, she did not want it to be as awkward as it was before. _First things first:_ "Gaara," she said, "We're friends now. And I will…_teach_ you, as you asked. But you don't have to be so damn formal all the time."

His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. Formality was part of his character as a leader, but if Sakura deemed it inauspicious, he would attempt to be more colloquial. "As you wish."

"Still too formal."

He thought for a moment. "Whatever you say?" he tried.

"Better. And for the record, don't you dare call me _Sakura-sensei_, got it?"

His smirk widened. What an interesting woman. He started to say, "Yes ma'am," but stopped when Sakura narrowed her eyes. Instead, he opted for, "Got it."

"Okay. Good." Sakura expelled a heavy breath and turned away, attempting to calm her thoughts. What a night! Everything was happening so quickly. Casually, she retrieved her almost-forgotten drink and examined its contents. She finished the watery remnants in a single gulp and sighed. She would have to take a little time to absorb all this, to let it all sink in. Another kiss with Gaara!_ Who woulda thunk it?_

Gaara cleared his throat politely, and she turned her gaze back to him. He was looking at her expectantly. "So…What should I do?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

Gaara blinked. "For the lesson…?"

He watched Sakura's eyes grow so wide that they almost seemed disproportionate. "Wait—" her mind reeled, "You want another lesson _now_?"

"Yes?"

"Right now!"

"Why not?"

Sakura stammered a bit and stared at him. On one hand, she didn't want to seem rude, yet on the other, she felt completely unprepared. How did he expect her to—What was she supposed to—_Ahhh!_

_Just go with it!_ Inner Sakura pleaded.

"I-I, um, well, o-okay. Um, yeah, so…" Sakura inhaled a deep breath and then released it again. "What, exactly, do you want to learn?"

Gaara blinked. "Everything."

Sakura felt a rush of heat spread through her face. "You can't just say _everything_!" She scolded. "There's no way I could teach you everything. T-there's just, erm, too much!"

"I'm a fast learner."

_If that didn't have some kind of double meaning to it, then nothing does…_ Sakura covered a nervous whimper with a cough. "That—that's beside the point. Just… give me something specific to…uh…show you."

Wow. Poor choice of words. She could feel her own blood pulsing in her ears.

"I don't know where to start," Gaara confessed plainly.

Sakura scowled. She could already tell that working with this man was going to be exhausting. Last time he'd barely spoken at all. Last time—_Aha!_ "That's it!" she piped up, "We'll continue where we left off. Alright?"

"Alright."

An awkward moment passed in which neither person knew precisely what to do. Shakily, Sakura gave a nervous laugh and tucked her hair behind her ear. With a gulp for courage, she scooted sideways until she was facing her student. Gaara followed suit, drawing his body closer to hers. He could not believe what was happening. Sakura had agreed to his request. It was contrary to any sort of reaction he'd anticipated. He vowed to do everything as she instructed. He would not mess up this opportunity as he had the last one. Sakura pulled herself ever closer until their shoulders were nearly touching. The positioning was awkward, but it was the best they could manage side-by-side on the slanted rooftop.

"Right. Okay." Sakura cleared her throat. Her heart was beating so erratically that it felt like a tap dancer was performing a jig in her chest. "Face me, then." Gaara did as she commanded. He was so close that she could smell the masculine scent wafting off his skin and see a dusting of dark red hairs on his chest. _Clear head, Haruno._ "Lean in a bit…Just a bit…Right. You don't want to seem overbearing. Okay, good." Talking helped to keep her mind on track, helped to keep her from simply staring at the man before her. But she couldn't talk forever. This was entirely different from teaching medical procedures. Mending broken bodies back together was cake, but this was a completely different ball field. "I guess you should just, um, mimic what I do, okay?" Gaara nodded, but his face remained completely expressionless. "Now…open your mouth…Just a little bit…" _Gulp_. "Now close your eyes…"

Gaara hesitated, but slowly his deep green irises disappeared behind ebony lids. Last time, he'd kept his eyes open. Closing them lit his nerves on fire. His very instincts protested, but he ignored them and obeyed his teacher. A moment passed while anticipation fermented in the pit of his stomach. This was what he'd been hoping for, even dreaming of, and now it was about to happen. He could now feel the warmth of her breath on his chin, smell the alcohol on her lips. "Take a breath." He did.

Sakura leaned in.

* * *

Ahhh!

Well there you have it. I hope this chapter wasn't too overbearing. When you examine it deeper, the conversation they have is really rather short. I had a hard time fitting in the emotional conflict because I felt it made the story to boringly-drawn out. And there are several parts in which I feel the story is jumpy and not as linguistically-smoothed over as I would like it.

But hell, you guys have waited far long enough. And I will attempt to have the next chapter posted much sooner than this one was.

R&R Please-

Olly


	12. Where Sakura Finally Gives In

Ten days. TEN DAYS. I promised a speedier post, and did I deliver, or did I deliver? I know, I know. I'm so proud of myself.

I knew I couldn't leave you guys with that nasty cliffhanger for long. I was already receiving threats against my life if I didn't update quickly. Haha, well here ya go.

The moment you've all been waiting for…

~Olly BaaBaa-Chan

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Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

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Sakura bent forward slowly, cautiously, taking in the moment. Gaara's face looked so serene: his dark eyes sealed closed, his pale lips slightly parted, the breeze playfully sifting through his deep red hair. It all felt surreal—maybe it was a dream…And hell, if it was, then she had no reason to hold back. Sakura took a deep breath and closed the remaining distance. She hesitated, just a finger's-width from his face. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin and smell the alcohol on his lips. The air felt electrified with tension and anticipation. She couldn't wait any longer—This was it.

She let her eyes close slowly of their own accord, and she slowly pressed forward. Finally, their lips touched.

Gaara's muscles tensed instinctively and his eyes flew open. _Damn it!_ It was happening—their lips were touching—but he suddenly could not remember what to do! He watched in dismay as Sakura's beautiful face retreated and her eyes slid open. That was it—He'd blown it. His second and final chance with this woman was ruined, all because of his damn reflexes! He took a breath to apologize, but she cut him off.

"Relax," she said softly. "Just take a moment to be calm." Her voice quivered on the air, almost as if she was instructing herself as much as she was instructing him. "This time, take a deeper breath. You won't have to hold it for long, but it will help prepare you." Perhaps it was the significant lack of alcohol consumed, or perhaps because he had requested a lesson directly, but Sakura was actually attempting to teach him this time. He was surprised, but secretly grateful, for last time she'd simply kissed him with little warning and then left just as quickly. He gave her a single nod and breathed the air deeply, surprised at how much his lungs seemed to ache without it. It made no difference that he was receiving a lesson from Sakura, he did not want to seem the fool. _I will not mess this up!_ he commanded himself. He expelled some air, gave his teacher a look of preparation, and let his eyes close again. He took another breath.

"Alright, ready?" Sakura asked and watched as his flawless chest expanded with air. Sakura gulped for courage, and took a deep breath of her own. This time she rested her right hand on Gaara's jaw, hopefully as a means of calming him and also providing a little more stability. Her touch was light and cool against his flushed, warm, skin. She prayed he couldn't feel her shaking.

She leaned in again, gently, gently—oh so carefully. She did not want to frighten Gaara—no, she wanted this to be perfect, if only for her own selfish desires. She kept her eyes open until the last possible moment, reveling in this stolen piece of heaven. Yes, this would be her chance; this would be her time to claim this man as her own, if only for a little while. It would be her secret from the rest of the world. Her heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. She could feel the blood pulsing in her ears and her stomach felt light, as though it had suddenly abandoned her body and dropped away. She brushed her lips lightly against his, and it sent a jolt through her body. She felt Gaara tense at the contact as well. He was nervous. It made her heart swell: proud and courageous leader though he was, this was still new to him, and she suddenly felt honored to be the one to experience this moment with Gaara. Somehow, it alleviated some of her own anxiety.

She pushed her lips down a little harder.

Gaara felt the warmth and the pressure at his mouth. He understood now why everyone raved at physical attraction and romance and the opposite sex and why a kiss was so amazingly important in such things. From a purely anatomical standpoint, there really wasn't much to it: their mouths were simply connected and their lips were moving together synchronically . He could even get a small hint of Sakura's taste behind his lips: it was sweet, but not in the way that sugar is sweet, and it could not be compared to any other taste he'd encountered in his lifetime, unless he included the remnants of alcohol that was present. In short, the mechanics of it all weren't too exciting. The internal effects, however—

They were nothing less than amazing. Gaara would have opened his eyes again out of mere shock, but he reminded himself to keep them closed this time. Every nerve in his body felt alive and ablaze. His heart was beating more heavily than if he'd just been training for hours, and every muscle was tensed in anticipation. His skin literally itched—itched for something, something else—what, he did not yet know. It was such a small area of contact, and yet his entire body was reacting. He felt frozen in place, but at the same time every limb in his body wanted to move. Outwardly, he could still hear and feel everything around him, like the cool night air on his bare skin, the whisper of a breeze, and Sakura's breath colliding softly with his cheek. But inwardly, his mind raced, fighting between maintaining control and letting go to instincts. His chest was aching and his head felt light, but he did not care. He wanted this moment—this kiss—to continue forever, if only he could keep these interesting new feelings.

Sakura pulled her lips away just long enough to shakily whisper, "Breathe through your nose," before she pressed them back down again. Breathing? Hah! Who needed air when he had a beautiful young woman attached to his face? Regardless, he did as he was told and sucked a new batch of cool night air into his lungs. He was to do everything Sakura instructed, including mimicry. He pulled his own hand up to rest on her right cheek in the same way that hers was against his. Sakura immediately took in a sharp breath and increased her pressure. Gaara pushed back, practically pulling her face to him.

"Mmm," Sakura pulled away, "Be careful to not push too hard. You'll get bruised lips." Gaara's dark eyes slid open, and they suddenly seemed aglow with something new and foreign. He sucked in several hasty breaths, and Sakura chuckled lightly, "Don't forget to breathe, okay?"

Gaara couldn't believe how Sakura seemed so clear-headed about all this. He wasn't sure if he even still retained the ability to form coherent sentences, and so he didn't even try. He just nodded.

"So, I guess that was a—uh, a _normal_ kiss." Sakura herself seemed a little winded. Even in the darkness, her face was flushed and dark pink. "Pretty, um, simple. All lips. Some pressure is good, but not too much…And always remember to breathe." She paused thoughtfully and then said, "Um, I guess that's all you really have to remember..." She glanced shyly towards him before finishing with, "I think you'll be just fine with that."

Gaara's breathing slowed. That was it? No, it couldn't be. _More!_ his body screamed. _More, more, more! More kisses! More Sakura!_ That couldn't have been the whole lesson. With a deep breath and a gulp to prepare himself, Gaara asked, "What's next?"

Sakura blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"What's the next thing I'm to learn?"

If possible, the color in Sakura's cheeks darkened. "T-the n-next thing?" Her jaw dipped up and down mechanically as she struggled for words. "I-I don't know—anything stronger is… well its…its—"

"Show me."

Sakura gaped in astonishment. Was that a command? Or a request? She honestly couldn't tell. She'd never seen Gaara like this. His usually deep baritone sounded suddenly rougher, but not necessarily harsh. He looked calm and collected, but his beautiful shoulders were still rising and falling in time with his traitorously deep breaths. Sakura felt locked in place as he gazed at her. His eyes were piercing, as though he could easily see past her attempt at cutting the lesson short… No, she didn't really want to stop kissing him. It wasn't as though he was a bad kisser; for his first time, he was doing—Sakura gulped—_remarkably _well. She desperately wanted to continue, her body actually ached for it, but she didn't trust herself. At the moment when Gaara's hand went to cup her face, she'd accidentally slipped from instruction to animalistic indulgence. What would have happened if she hadn't stopped herself? Something horribly embarrassing, no doubt. After all, she couldn't expose her secret enjoyment, lest she would ruin this whole opportunity. For Gaara, it was still just a _lesson_. She had to play it safe.

But damn, did she want kiss this man again…

Sakura cleared her throat and, very business-like, attempted once more to explain, "Um, well, that was a basic kiss. From there, there are a lot of ways to, uh, change that into something deeper…"

"Such as?"

Sakura's legs felt like jelly. Gaara was being extremely persistent. But hey—she wasn't exactly about to complain. She just had to somehow hide her nerves and true intentions behind falsified confidence. No big deal…

"Well," she gulped and slowly reached for his hand. Gaara watched with fascination. _Yes, yes!_ It wasn't over. Not yet. He would get another taste of the euphoria this woman brought upon him. Sakura spoke quietly, as though she was either nervous or hesitant. At the moment, Gaara didn't care. He only wanted more of her, of Sakura, in any possible way, shape, or form. _Mine!_ his screamed._ She's mine!_

Sakura's delicate voice drew him back from his thoughts. She'd already continued, and he wasn't paying attention. "One way to deepen a kiss is to use the rest of your body." Shyly, she held Gaara's heavy, strong hand in her own. He was so complacent right now, if she had wanted to trace the lifelines on his palm or lace her smaller fingers through his, he probably wouldn't have stopped her. _But no,_ Sakura sighed, _I must refrain_. Instead she continued speaking, "You can do this in a number of ways, too…Like, if you were standing, you could pull—" _Me_ "—the woman closer to you with your arm. Or…" Sakura took a deep, shaky breath, "You can put your hand behind her neck…"

Gaara's breath hitched in his throat as he watched Sakura pull his hand up, up. At first it felt as though she was going to put it where it had previously rested along her jaw bone, but instead she pulled further. Carefully, she placed his hand at the crook of her neck, just behind her left ear. Every hair on Gaara's body felt as if it were standing straight. He stared in disbelief. This was one of the things he'd been dreaming of, he realized. For so long he'd imagined caressing her delicate, white skin and touching her petal-soft hair—and now, all at once, he was doing both. Sakura let her own hand drop, leaving his alone to explore the nape of her neck. He stretched his fingers tentatively, investigating this new experience. He could feel where her very hairline ended, could feel thousands of her little pink hairs tickling the back of his hand. His thumb dipped just below her ear, and Sakura made no move to stop him when he experimentally let it trace the crux of her jaw.

Gaara was so enthralled that he did not even notice Sakura watching him, memorizing his every feature and reaction. It was such an amazing feeling. Her neck was so slender and lovely, more so than he'd ever thought to imagine. He felt as if he were clutching a ceramic doll: one wrong move and he might bruise this delicacy. The little fuzzy hairs along her skin felt so smooth, and her head felt so small in the palm of his hand.

"You can move it," Sakura whispered quietly, regarding the placement of his hand. Gaara did not even look at her, but instead remained perplexed with the feeling of holding her neck. Slowly, he let his fingers slide up, pushing five distinct new trails through her pearly, pink hair. He closed his hand slowly, feeling the soft hair twist and tangle around his digits, and then stretched his fingers out again. He let his hand trace back down this time, all the way to the base of Sakura's neck, where the edge of his sleeping robe prevented him from going further. Her neck was so beautiful, her skin and hair like velvet. His own skin was rough to the touch, his hair coarse, as he recalled. The difference was staggering. He hoped his rough fingers weren't scratching her, for she felt so unbelievably soft.

"You see?" Sakura said brokenly. It proved extremely difficult to concentrate on her current task while Subaku no Gaara's large, strong hand was tracing through her hair and up and down along the base of her neck. It was hard enough to keep her voice steady, let alone instruct the rest of this lesson. "You can use your hands during a kiss to make it stronger."

Gaara's eyes finally flicked to her face and his hand stopped moving. "How?"

Sakura gulped. "By doing what you're doing now…but while kissing."

"While kissing?" Gaara asked. Sakura felt his fingers flex in her hair, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes…_While_ kissing." _Why is that so hard to understand?_ Sakura wondered.

Gaara paused for a moment. "Show me," he said again.

Butterflies swarmed in Sakura's stomach. Again he was asking—or demanding—for her to continue. She'd prolonged a deeper kiss by allowing him to practically grope her neck (which, to be clear, was by no means unenjoyable) but if they kept going, it could be treading into dangerous waters. She'd never given a kissing lesson before, but she assumed that the majority of kissing knowledge is supposed to be learned from experience. Taking a kiss to the next level was a natural response when kissing someone you cared about. It felt deceitful to learn or instruct this kind of thing through a _lesson_.

"Are…are you sure you want to learn something like this from me?" Sakura asked quietly. "This kind of thing is usually learned from, well…you just kind of learn it on your own…when you're ready. Are you sure you want to learn it from… _me_?"

Gaara stared at Sakura for a long while. He wanted this woman, wanted to kiss this woman, more than anything else. This wasn't just a lesson for him—this was an opportunity, perhaps his only opportunity, to have her for himself. Slowly, but firmly, he nodded.

Sakura inhaled sharply and squeaked, "Okay…" Embarrassed, she blinked and cleared her throat. "Right…well, then, I guess pull…pull me towards you." She couldn't help but blush again at the last, "In-into the kiss…"

Gaara felt his body flush with heat. Tentatively, he pulled his right arm inwards, dragging Sakura's neck with him. Her held fell backward slightly, so that it felt as though he was cradling it with his hand. Sakura did not hesitate or pull back. She let him pull her upward, so close. It was all up to him, Gaara realized. No longer was he receiving a kiss—this time he was the one giving it. He would not disappoint, he resolved. He sealed his lips over hers.

A feeling of relief and excitement washed through Gaara. He didn't think it was possible to want one small thing so much, and yet the moments in which they'd stopped kissing felt like eternities. It felt so good to have her face against his once more, feeling the rush of euphoric sensations cascading through his body. This time was different, though. Their faces were at a wider angle now, and he could feel more of her lips moving with his. He moved a bit clumsily at first, accidentally knocking teeth, but after a few seconds passed, his confidence grew. His hand, still cradling her head, tugged reflexively, pulling Sakura even closer. He was now angled slightly over her—not directly above, but just slightly. A new, very powerful feeling invaded Gaara's body, more strongly than he'd ever felt it before in his lifetime: possession. The muscles in his exposed back rippled with tension and his grip on Sakura tightened measurably. He leaned forward, bringing his left arm over to rest on roof tiles on the other side of Sakura's hips. Now he truly was angled over her—and that was how it should be. This woman was _his_. _His_ to kiss. _His_ to protect. _His_ only.

To Gaara's surprise, Sakura did not attempt to stop him. Rather, she leaned back, allowing him better leverage. Her right arm snaked upward, and she placed her hand on his left shoulder, splaying her fingers out over the warm, exposed flesh. Gaara pressed his lips harder, and this time she did not pull away. His fingers twisted in her hair, angling her face as he desired.

Sakura was lost in her own Nirvana. If Gaara wanted to take this kiss farther, then fuck it. She wasn't about to stop him. _I'm a fast learner,_ he'd said.

Truer words were never freaking spoken.

Aside from a bumpy start, this guy was a natural. He hardly even needed her instruction. This kiss was miles from where'd they'd started on Saturday. Now that he was moving his lips with hers, it was damn near impossible to not just melt against him. Her mind was practically lost already. She wanted more of this man. Between kisses, she muttered, "Another….way to… deepen… a kiss… is to use… your tongue."

"Tongue?" Gaara growled.

Sakura gave some sort of muffled affirmative response and then widened her mouth. Gaara felt the tip of her warm tongue caress the inside of his lip, almost as though she were asking permission. Her hand slid up to cup his head, entwining her fingers with his thick, coarse hair. How many people had felt this hair before in the way that she was feeling it now? How many women? Few? None? Only her. This was to be her moment. Forever after this, she would have always been the first—as far as she knew, anyways. The first to kiss this man. The first to have him as hers. Her tongue dipped deeper.

A whole new shock wave jolted through Gaara. He gasped once, surprised by how such a little motion affected him, and then delved with his lips back down again. Sakura's mouth felt so small in comparison to his own. Careful not to hurt her, Gaara stretched his lips wider and pressed down. Mimicry was the method of teaching, after all, and so he swirled his tongue around the edge of her top lip. Sakura responded by lifting her other hand to curl into his hair. She let her back lie flat against the roof tiles, pulling Gaara's head with her so as to not break the kiss. Her breaths were becoming shallower by the second, and her hot little tongue continued to dart into Gaara's mouth. Her student followed by example, clutching to her hair as though his life depended on it. That taste of which he'd previously disregarded was inexplicably strong now, and it was mixing with the usual flavor of his own mouth. It was something he had never thought to consider before, but in this moment it took on a very strong meaning. He and Sakura were sharing something, something that only they two could understand or recreate. This was their taste, together.

And he loved it.

They continued together for several moments, neither able to get enough of the other. Sakura stretched her body out like a cat underneath Gaara's torso as he leaned further and further over her. Without warning, Gaara felt something sharp on his bottom lip. And then just as quickly, Sakura's tongue was licking the sting away. _She…she bit me…_ he realized. A wave of heat flashed through him, pulsating in his head and groin. He felt the rumble of a growl threatening to escape, but it was not a growl of anger…No, he liked it. He wanted more of it. _Yes, more, more!_

Gaara feared biting Sakura back, so instead he rolled over her, still propped up by his left knee. These feelings were fascinating. He was now completely above her, carefully hovering with his legs straddling her lean body. If she disapproved of the position, she made no indication of it. Sakura was lost. The lesson was lost. She no longer cared about the consequences. She no longer worried about the implications. This man was strong. He was cunning. He was rough and wind-worn like the desert world he lived in. But he was also loyal. He was even kind. She wanted to explore that kindness hidden within, wanted to unravel the person that Gaara truly was. So what if he wore a white robe with a white hat? So what if he spoke in formalities and monosyllabic affirmations? Underneath it all was a man, a young man, a curious man. A lonely man. A man bursting with vitality and promise. All he needed was a woman: someone to share it with, someone to console him when his days got rough, and someone to laugh with and share a drink. Someone to kiss him like she was kissing him now.

Sakura would happily fill the role.

Thoroughly intoxicated with the heavy weight of her intimate thoughts, Sakura wrapped both of her arms securely around Gaara's neck, entangling her fingers through his thick red mop. Suddenly a bit unstable with this new adjustment, Gaara let his left arm slacken, so that it was not as far a stretch to lean down. His breaths were becoming more ragged as a low, carnal growl scratched at the back of his throat. Sakura's breathing, too, had begun to change. Her breaths were accompanied by a quiet sort of hum emanating from the depth of her chest. The sound of it made Gaara's heart thud heavily against his chest. Without prompting, he stretched his thick, warm tongue deep into Sakura's mouth. The hum grew louder, and her fingers twisted tighter in his hair. Her body stretched below him, slender but strong, extending her pale, lovely legs past where his knees were perched. His robe splayed out beneath her, cushioning the length of her back and rippling in the breeze. Gaara could no longer think. Shadowy words like '_caution'_ and '_lesson'_ whispered through his mind, but he could no longer obey them. His body was working on instinct now. This beautiful woman, this Sakura flower, was here with him. She hadn't stopped him so far, wasn't stopping him now, so what did it matter? She was his. She belonged to him. He was sharing this with her. He would share anything with her. He wanted the feel of her lips on his skin. Wanted the touch of her hand on his shoulder. Wanted her friendship. Wanted her approval. He wanted to share with her the beauty and comfort he found in the moon. And he wanted her there to hold him on the cold moonless nights when he felt most alone.

But for now, it was this kiss he wanted most. Or, rather, he never wanted it to end. The feelings, the taste—he was in a state of stupor that no brand of alcohol or drug could ever accomplish. What his skin itched so badly for was the warmth of her body, the warmth of her touch. She was so, so close. The small window of air between their torsos already felt electrified with heat, and his upper legs were already tensed from holding up the weight of his body. Body and mind agreed—he needed to feel her skin against his own, needed it to stay sane. In one, fell swoop, Gaara lowered his body downward.

All at once, the growl he'd been suppressing finally burst forth, tearing at his throat and rattling behind his teeth. The exposed flesh above her flimsy little shirt felt as hot as fire against his own. He could even feel her perk nipples prodding against his chest. A lance of quivers raked through his body, stemming straight from his groin and through each and every limb. He'd not realized the state of his own arousal, had forgotten the natural physical response that was a direct result of his current actions. His manhood was swollen with a need he'd forgotten he even possessed. He'd never felt this way before, and yet it still felt natural. Even the slightest twinge of pressure sent waves of pleasure racing through him, making his mouth sour and his head dizzy. How amazing it felt! But he was not the only one affected.

Sakura, too, felt the hard bulge at the junction of her thighs. She gasped and arched upward, rolling her hips in a delicious way that coaxed quivers to cascade through her stomach. Her fingers twisted tighter, threatening to tear hair from scalp, as a raw moan tore through her throat. Gaara gasped, overcome by the wonderful feeling her motion had sent through him and captivated by the sound he'd just heard.

But suddenly it was all too real.

Gaara rolled his hips experimentally, delighting in the sensations it produced, but quickly stopped. Sakura's body was stiff and chilled. Something was wrong. When he pulled back, her eyes were already open, the wide orbs frightened and glossy. Immediately all the warmth in Gaara was gone. He'd hurt her. The sound she made wasn't good…It was pain, it must have been. Why else would she suddenly look so terrified? His possessive grip on the back of her neck loosened and changed into a gentle, supportive gesture. Worriedly, he shifted upward, letting her tangled arms dangle limply around his neck. She looked stunned, petrified, as if some unseen jutsu had dissolved her into a rigid, porcelain doll. Fear rolled and tumbled in Gaara's stomach. He cupped her cheek.

"Sakura?" he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Sakura broke. Her big, green eyes clouded with tears. "No."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said again, this time the word breaking in her throat. Weakly her slender little arms pushed against him, hitting at his chest and shoulders lightly as if she wanted to touch his bare skin as little as possible. Her eyes no longer met his, no matter how intently he stared at her and willed her to stare back. He leaned back slowly, carefully, while Sakura tried ineffectively to wriggle herself free from him. Her hands drifted everywhere: her forehead, her mouth, her chest, as if she couldn't decide what to do with them. Her mouth worked mechanically, but nothing more than whimpers escaped. She finally looked over to Gaara, who had warily moved to her side. She watched his beautiful chest rise and fall with deep, measured breaths. She watched the breeze pick up and whistle through his tousled hair. She glanced to his face, saw how his lips still glistened with moistness from their kiss, saw the way his non-existent brows furrowed with something resembling concern.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

Gaara tilted his head as though confused. He leaned towards her, one long, strong arm attempting to reach out, but Sakura couldn't take it anymore. She scrambled, body shaking, to her feet. "I'm so, so sorry, Gaara." Tears slid down her beautiful, ivory cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away. What on earth was she so sorry for? She had done nothing wrong. It was his fault, if anyone's.

But Sakura was moving away from him now, stumbling on the slant, tripping over the edge of his robe. "Wait," he tried to say, but somehow her movements tipped over her glass, sending it rolling and tinkling towards the edge of the roof. She apologized again, but did not stop. Gaara reached for the glass, hopelessly trying to catch it, watching it helplessly even as it bumped over the edge and disappeared. Gaara turned, eyes wide, heart drumming. Sakura was gone.

Somewhere, down below in the darkness, the glass shattered.

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Squee!

Well, I'm sorry for the brevity of the chapter. Lemme tell you, it had ME blushing while I wrote it, so at the very least I hope it doesn't disappoint.

And now, since there's no evil cliffhanger, I'm going to take a small break. I'm going away on a brief trip, and I might even write while I'm away, but I hope to see a tidal wave of critiques exploding my inbox when I return.

I beg to hear your invaluable input, cause this chapter was new territory for me and I need to know (honestly!) if I should or should not attempt such a scene again. If I could get down on my knees and beg through your computer screen, I would.

Until next time-

Olly


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